


Terzetto

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama & Romance, Falling In Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-03-27 01:46:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: The Holmes brothers thought they could keep their relationship a secret. Till a beautiful stranger stepped in and tore them apart as much as he pulled them into his orbit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jimo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimo/gifts), [fabricdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/gifts).



Sherlock sprang up to a sitting position the moment the door opened and a tall figure stepped inside his room.

 

“Um….I was….um…..”

 

“I know what you’ve been doing Sherlock, you’ve always been a very naughty boy,” the soft, almost reptilian voice floated across the room like vapors from dry ice, chilling him to the bone, “Naughty, extremely naughty and very beautiful. Just look at those eyes, those legs, those curly tendrils of hair! So bewitching and beautiful and sexy! Oh….what are those little things on your forehead…..Have you been sweating little Lockie? I can see perspiration on your brow! Is it the thrill of being caught or the excitement of discovering something stimulating you can do with your right hand, huh?”

 

“I….um….Myc…..”

 

“How old are you Lockie?”

 

“Four….fourteen.”

 

“Mmmm, ripening nicely every summer, the sweet fruit of youth!”

 

“Huh?”

 

Sherlock felt both scared and hopeful as Mycroft climbed into bed with him and roughly snatched the sheets away, exposing his nakedness completely. The younger boy whimpered, covering his face with both hands. “Go away,” he pleaded, feeling shame and excitement flood his senses at the same time, “I am sorry I was trying to do something like that, I won’t try that again, just don’t tell mummy.”

 

Two strong hands grasped his face and his hands were pried away from there. Sherlock was on the verge of tears but held them in check with a supreme effort. He could feel Mycroft’s eyes on him and goosebumps rose on his flesh. His spine and groin tingled in a rather forceful way.

 

“Lockie, none of us need to tell mummy.”

 

Sherlock swallowed.

 

Lips pressed to his forehead and he was pulled into a possessive, warm hug. Unknowingly Sherlock put his arms around the taller, older man and let out a breath he had been holding in for a while. “No more games little Lockie,” Mycroft whispered, “Trust your elder brother, trust him to show you how to have a good time. No one needs to know, no one will ever know, no one should ever know.”

 

“No one should ever know,” Sherlock repeated like a parrot and shrieked when warm fingers closed around his cock. Good Lord, that felt so good. His own hand felt good but his brother’s hand felt even more…..intimate.

 

“Let me show you how good this is supposed to feel,” Mycroft whispered thickly into his ears and pulled him down to a horizontal position, kissing a hot trail down his bare chest till his mouth found a hardened nub. The moment he suckled softly on it, Sherlock let out a high-pitched wail of delight. “Shhhhh, my pretty little one, don’t make so much noise or it will all be over even before the fun starts,” the thick, sugary voice poured down his ear like molten butter, “Just feel what I am doing and let yourself go. No need to hold back. I will take you flying again…..and again…..and yet again!!!”

 

Sherlock gasped and splattered his stomach with semen, seeing stars and sparks as his body and soul trembled hard with release. His teeth sank into Mycroft’s neck and the latter’s quiet, triumphant laughter echoed in his ears. He clung to the warm, willing body, his nose buried into the soft fabric of Mycroft’s pajama top. He smelled Mycroft there, along with residual aftershave and a hint of tobacco.

 

After a prolonged silence he heard the soft, mellifluous voice again.

 

“One more time?”

 

***

 

Sherlock woke up with a jump and looked around wildly at first. Disoriented and still stuck in the memories of a night almost fourteen years ago, he literally gasped when he saw a fully-dressed, suited and booted Mycroft standing at the foot of his bed. “It’s ten minutes to nine am,” Mycroft spoke in a disapproving tone, looking at his watch and grimacing, “You are late, once again.”

 

“Shit shit shit shit,” Sherlock jumped out of bed, yelping when he realized he was naked and scuttling right back under the covers, “Give me fifteen.”

 

“Take twenty but come downstairs shaved, brushed, fully-dressed and with your regular supplies,” Mycroft rolled his eyes as he said the last two words, “Last week you got into the car without your shoes, on Monday you reached office and realized you had forgotten your cell-phone and yesterday you forgot both your belt and your wallet. The last thing daddy would want to see is his son presenting to the clients in his underwear.”

 

Sherlock snarled, “That’s enough. No more jibes. By the way, is dad mad?”

 

“At me, for not waking you up sooner.”

 

Sherlock bit back a grin. No matter how appropriate or intelligent Mycroft was, their father would always back Sherlock when it came to a showdown between the two brothers. Their mother on the other hand was fonder of her firstborn Mycroft and understood him much more than she understood Sherlock. Reginald and Eugenia Holmes believed in equality between their kids and loved both of their boys devotedly but each of them did have a favorite. A soft corner, a little extra support was reserved for the one they identified more with. Reginald liked the more experimental, less conventional Sherlock. Eugenia adored the stable, calmer, dependable Mycroft.

 

“Now leave,” Sherlock snorted, “So I can get dressed.”

 

“Really?” Mycroft’s brows rose, “Anything you got that I haven’t seen before?”

 

Sherlock growled, “Get the fuck out of my room.”

 

“Filthy little thing,” Mycroft scoffed and walked out.

 

“Asshole,” Sherlock grumbled.

 

“Idiot,” came the equally grumpy response from the hallway outside.

 

***

 

The deal was sealed.

 

Holmes Corporation had managed to snag a billion-pound contract to build a six-mile bridge in Abu Dhabi, to connect two man-made islands on the Gulf. Expected timeline to finish the project would be a year. Neat profit expected from it was at least two hundred and fifty million.

 

The chairman and managing director, Reginald Holmes, beamed with pride and happiness as he watched his two sons win over the clients like they were taking a walk in the park. While Sherlock had done a fabulous job of creating a powerful sales pitch and presenting their project blueprint very effectively to the sheikhs, Mycroft had managed to showcase their financials and manpower so brilliantly that the group of seven were left charmed and convinced within two hours. They had agreed to sign on the dotted line immediately.

 

“Well done boys,” he said as he backslapped his sons and shook their hands warmly, “This is the third big deal in two years. While your hard work has nearly doubled our profits in the last five years, I am a bit worried that we might have overcommitted on some factors.”

 

“What kind of over commitment?” Sherlock asked with his usual arrogance, “We didn’t sell duds. We were sure of whatever we mentioned in our tenders, our legal declarations and our project plans.”

 

“Dad means, we need to recruit more capable men and women,” Mycroft said with an air of superiority, “We are the seventh largest construction company in the world and the largest in Europe. Even then, we can run short of resources if we bite off more than what we can chew.”

 

When Sherlock still looked a bit confused, Reginald clarified the whole thing. “Look, all our best engineers have been assigned to some project or the other. We have Hugo but he’s tied up with the project in India and that too is a big one. We have Karen but she has a request, she is pregnant and doesn’t want to work outside US for the next year or so. So we have given her the project in New Mexico. Ralph would have been a good choice but he’s neck deep into the three projects we have in Las Vegas. Akiro is working in Australia and Japan, shuttling between the two countries every second week. He can’t manage Dubai. And we recently lost Rhys to one of our rival companies.”

 

“We just need to recruit someone good from the market,” Sherlock shrugged, “This project won’t start for another month at least.”

 

“You feel that’s enough time to recruit a brilliant engineer?” Mycroft asked.

“It is, unless you wish to complicate things.”

 

“It’s not so simple Sherlock. Our background checks on employees takes a month, at least.”

 

“Then let’s take someone who’s a referral.”

 

“Or take someone who is capable and not just a quick-fit.”

 

“Boys that’s enough,” Reginal raised his voice and, recognizing his authority, they both stopped talking, “You have been doing an awesome job of late; therefore, let me lend you a little support in getting a good resource for this project. I might have some sources and old friends who could help me out a bit and send me some good resumes. Don’t worry, continue your work and leave the recruitment and reference checks with me.”

 

“Thanks dad,” Sherlock said, already texting someone from his cell-phone, “Um….I need to leave early tonight. I have an experiment to finish.”

 

He was out through the door before either Reginald or Mycroft could react. Reginald simply smiled but Mycroft was not so forgiving.

 

“Dad, how do you even…..”

 

“It’s okay son. Sherlock is like the wind! You try to change its direction or hold it in a bag, you destroy the very thing that makes it such a force of nature. As long as he’s working hard and keeping himself off cocaine, I’m more than happy to let him have a life outside of this office.”

 

“That’s a very long rope,” Mycroft sighed.

 

His father placed his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder and nodded, “Maybe that is true. But let’s look at it this way Myc, Sherlock works sixteen hours to chase and meet deadlines and he sometimes does that for days at a stretch. So, if he finishes his work occasionally in six hours and wants to go have fun, in his own way of course, then it’s okay to give him that much rope. In fact I’d like to give you the same leeway, provided you wish to have a life outside of work as well. Your mummy was telling me the other day that you’re working too hard. You should take a break and go on a holiday perhaps, with your friends.”

 

“My friends are all married, some have kids. They do holidays only when school is out or they go to Disneyland, for their children’s sake.”

 

“I am sure there are some friends left who are single and unattached like you are.”

 

Mycroft shrugged, “I am good dad. I have a life too. My books, my stamp collection. I go to the Diogenes every Monday and Wednesday.”

 

“Maybe you should go to the Caymans.”

 

“Dad, one holiday a year is enough. Just eighteen months ago I went to Greece.”

 

Reginald sighed, “Whatever you decide Myc. You’re thirty-five. You’re an adult. I can’t tell you how to live your life. But in case you want a break or want to use our villa in Caymans or the ski chalet in Aspen, the offer stands.”

 

***

 

Sherlock was furiously scribbling something in his notepad while he worked on three different experiments all at once. His concentration was entirely on the tubes and apparatus and concoctions in front of him when he heard someone enter his lab.

 

“Hudders I am twenty-eight now, no more wet-nursing,” he called out.

 

Mrs. Hudson was his nanny and had lived with the Holmes family in their London mansion for nearly as many years as Sherlock had walked this planet. More than Eugenia, she was the one who read Sherlock as clearly as a map and as accurately as an astronomer. She chuckled at his words and ruffled his curly locks, “You missed dinner, as usual. In case you’re hungry, there’s some fruit and a sandwich in your bedroom. Goodnight Lock.”

 

“Night,” Sherlock said dismissively.

 

He heard her leave but minutes later, there was someone at the door again. Without looking up he said in an exasperated tone, “I will eat when I am hungry and I will be hungry only when I am done with this. Now go to bed Hudders…..”

 

He paused as he heard the familiar sound of someone clearing their throat. This wasn’t Mrs. Hudson or mummy, two people who often bugged him when he was up late. Eyes slightly wide, cheeks slightly flushed and a faint stirring in his groin, he pushed his notepad aside and stared at his elder brother who stood three feet away from him. “It’s past midnight Lockie and if you don’t get to bed now, we will be late again at work tomorrow. I, for once, am not going to be your alarm clock at nine in the morning. Now finish up here quickly and come to bed. That’s an order. No negotiations or arguments.”

 

“Who are you t-to order me?” Sherlock hated it when he stammered in his brother’s presence.

 

“You know very well who,” Mycroft said with a smug expression.

 

***

 

Mycroft tried not to look awed as he watched his kid brother moan and gasp towards what had to be a gigantic orgasm.

 

Sherlock’s best feature had to be his eyes. Green pools of light set in an almond shape, heavily hooded by long lashes and bearing all the colors and expressions of nature, they could easily mesmerize anyone who dared look into them for more than five seconds.

 

The pupils were nearly completely dilated by now and loud moans came out of Sherlock’s bow shaped lips as he writhed and thrashed underneath his older sibling, naked and aroused and spasming from his impending climax. His cock throbbed between Mycroft’s fingers and when Mycroft squeezed his balls, Sherlock nearly choked with arousal. “Breathe Lockie breathe,” he whispered in his ‘sex’ voice, “Cum all over my fingers now, let go, cum!”

 

“Uhnnnn,” Sherlock choked out, arched his back, let out a raspy breath and shot his wad all over the place. Some of is landed on Mycroft’s chin, some on his arm, some hit Sherlock’s chest and neck.

 

“Jeesusss,” Mycroft grinned, watching him lasciviously, “What a shooter you are!”

 

“Keep touching meeee,” Sherlock whined, still riding out his orgasm.

 

“With pleasure.”

 

“Oh fuck…..”

 

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, it’s fine, you look beautiful!”

 

Sherlock’s body jerked spasmodically and he sucked on Mycroft’s neck as he slowly came down from his high. Digging his nails into Mycroft’s biceps, he drank in the sight of his older brother, his teacher, his sex guru and the secret love of his life. For fourteen years they had kept this thing away from every eye, including those of their parents, and shared a bed on the occasional night when neither could shy away from their bodily needs. Sherlock’s fear of being caught or exposed had slowly reduced to zero and was now replaced by a cunning arrogance of ‘so what’? Now he didn’t even care if anybody found out.

 

Myc belonged to him. Tall and strong, intelligent and reliable, calm and poised, resourceful and well-connected, a wizard at networking and strategy, Mycroft was everything he looked for in a man. Many years ago he had been thrilled to know that Myc, a man coveted my both men and women in their society, was actually attracted to him. He had never looked for anyone else since that day.

 

Unbeknownst to him, Mycroft adored him similarly. A beautiful child who had blossomed into this handsome young man, brilliant at planning and a genius with numbers, slender as a reed with alabaster skin and gorgeous dark brown curls, Sherlock was everything Mycroft needed in an occasional lover. Ever since this boy had grown up and surrendered to him, he had never needed anyone else sexually. Sherlock was enough for him.

 

“You didn’t,” Sherlock panted when he was able to speak again.

 

“I will now,” Mycroft cradled him in his arms.

 

“How?”

 

“Just do your thing.”

 

Sherlock moaned and started to rub his naked body against Mycroft’s, watching as his lover jerked himself to a mammoth orgasm. When he saw the spurts of semen pour out of Mycroft’s cock, Sherlock came for a second time. A tiny trickle of fluid left his twitching cock.

 

“More?” Mycroft asked, cleaning them both with a towel.

 

“Nnnaaah,” Sherlock yawned and curled up against his brother, “G’night.”

 

“Sandwich?”

 

The response was a snore. “My darling little Lockie,” Mycroft said fondly and picked up the sandwich kept on a plate on the nightstand, “Well, let me eat it then. Waste not, want not.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Irishman intervenes in the happy, if slightly dysfunctional, Holmes Haven

“Look at that,” Victor Trevor muttered into Sherlock’s ear, “That thieving little bitch Carrie! She just put a silver spoon into her pocket.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “We know she has stealing tendencies. Still, your friend Brandon had to invite her to his party. Now let him suffer, just as I am suffering. Why are we here Vic?”

 

“Four things Lock,” Victor made a face at the last comment but kept up his friendly smile, “It is not Brandon but Barry. You never get Christian names correct despite having a photographic memory. Second thing, he happens to be _our_ friend and not _my_ friend. We went to Cambridge together, didn’t we? Point number three, we both know we have inherited more than enough wealth from our families to tolerate losses of a few silverware. Final thing, there is a reason why I insisted you should come to these parties. Look around you, young people having a good time. You need to know what that feels like.”

 

Sherlock sneered, “Really? I need to know how to have a good time? Who says I don’t have a good time doing things I like to do.”

 

“You can have a good time here,” Victor insisted, “A different kind of fun.”

 

“And that can only be achieved by coming to a party?” Sherlock sighed, “Where I don’t know seventy five percent of the folks around me.”

 

“Maybe that’s a good thing. You should know more people, outside of your office and clients.”

 

“Vic, I am not made for these things. I’d rather have a quiet night in than a big night out.”

 

“Hmmm, we can still leave and curl up on the couch with pizza. Watch a nice action movie or some kind of adventure-thriller. I have 127 hours on my laptop.”

 

Sherlock snickered, “Let’s do that. But before we get there, let me ensure Ms Kleptomania gives back the silverware.”

 

“Lock,” Victor grabbed his arm, “What? How? Forget it.”

 

“Nope,” Sherlock stepped right into the middle of the humungous hallway and called out loudly, “Attention everyone! Here, this way, attention please! I am Sherlock and I want to show you all a magic trick. Look at me please!” He paused and waved his arms till a curious group of at least thirty gathered around him, including their host Barry and Carrie. “Here, look at me,” he held aloft a silver spoon with the family name engraved on its handle, “Personalized silver spoon, been in this family for generations. Can everyone see it?”

 

“Yessss,” came the chorus response.

 

“Now I will put it in my pocket,” Sherlock did as he said, “And it will come out of Carrie’s pocket. Watch!”

 

A stunned, red-faced Carrie was left with no words as Sherlock coolly took out the spoon from her pocket and handed it to a grinning Barry. “I’ll put mine back in the kitchen before I leave,” he whispered into his friend’s ear and walked away amidst claps and choruses of ‘oh wow’.

 

“He is as endearing as he is eccentric,” Barry whispered to Victor as the two friends stood together for a few brief moments, “I still remember those days back in college when the girls would wager fifty to a hundred pounds and try to get him to kiss them. Anyways, I am so glad he came here today, although I can clearly see he can hardly wait to get out of here. Whatever he wants to do, don’t give up on him Vic. For years you have waited to hear a ‘yes’ from him. I think it’s about time you asked him the question that merits that ‘yes’ as an answer, don’t you think?”

 

“Just waiting for the right moment Barry,” Victor replied, looking at Sherlock who was trying to fend off a bevy of beauties.

 

“Don’t wait too long. You never know.”

 

“You never know what?”

 

“When someone else comes along.”

 

“Sherlock is incapable of getting attracted to a random stranger.”

 

Barry gave Victor a long look and nodded slowly, “If you say so.”

 

***

 

“That was a great game Myc, too bad you lost!”

 

“Celebrate Greg, you get to say the words ‘you lost’ once in six months. Enjoy the moment!”

 

Mycroft had narrowly lost a single-set tennis match to Gregory Lestrade, a handsome man about a year older than him, who was a family friend of theirs. He was one of the very few men who had earned Mycroft’s respect, otherwise the elder Holmes sibling was notorious for his disapproval of people who were ‘not at his level’. If they were rich and stupid he didn’t like them, if they were smart and poor he kept them at an arm’s length, if they were rich and intelligent he often called them haughty horseshit. There was no pleasing Mycroft Holmes, not unless one was a rare combination of several positive attributes.

 

Greg snort giggled, “God, you are competitive to the core. You hate losing, don’t you?”

 

“Never liked losing. Never wanna lose.”

 

“What if you do? I mean what if a rare scenario comes up?”

 

Mycroft wiped the sweat from his brow and gave his companion a quizzical look, to which Greg responded with a proper and longer explanation. “You see, there could be several situations where you might have to lose willingly. I remember a day from nearly two decades ago, I was sixteen and my parents were divorcing and they wanted me to choose who I should stay with. They wanted to settle this out of court and whereas my younger sister still had several years left at home, I was due to move out in two or three. So they left the decision to me, letting me choose between mum and dad. I had to lose one to keep the other.”

 

“Chose mum?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Thankfully my parents will never divorce.”

 

“Yeah, but what about choosing something with your sibling.”

 

Mycroft frowned, “Choosing something with my sibling…didn’t understand. Why would I have to choose Sherlock? He is my younger brother.”

 

“Yes,” Greg responded, “He is. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant a situation where….let’s suppose both of you fall for the same person.”

 

Mycroft let out a belly laugh and put his arm around Greg, falling into step with him as they proceeded towards the locker room. “Oh man, after all these years you still think I will choose a romantic partner, a ring would pop out and we’d live happily ever after? Like that’s really gonna happen someday.”

 

Greg looked hopeful, “Maybe one day it will.”

 

“Caring is not an advantage,” Mycroft said firmly, “Now come on, let’s have some beer.”

 

***

 

It was such a rare moment that both Sherlock and Mycroft were left staring at each other in complete surprise.

 

They had both received a short message from ‘mummy’ earlier that day. The text stated in simple words that they should be on time for dinner that night and hopefully be formally dressed for it too. During weekdays they hardly ever had dinner as a family, one or more of them missing out the eight-pm deadline due to work commitments. Those family gatherings were normally reserved for the weekends and nobody really minded that. Even though they lived on separate wings of their huge mansion near Hyde Park, they led their own independent lives and didn’t interfere in each other’s worlds.

 

But a request from mummy was never ignored, not even once. Therefore, as they came to a complete halt just outside the dining room, they were quite taken aback to see that they had arrived at the exact precise second. Mycroft looked at his watch and tapped on it, smirking at his baby brother as if to say ‘wow, you really made it on time too’. Sherlock returned that look with a snooty glare of his own, thrusting his nose into the air to indicate his nonchalance. ‘I don’t care what you think’ was written all over his face.

 

They knew their parents were inside already and so were the butler and the maid. The subtle clinking of glasses and the muted clangs of crockery and cutlery being placed on the table were interspersed with low murmured conversations. But a sudden laughter, a little too loud for the Holmes’ taste, caught them off guard. That didn’t sound like mummy or daddy, that was someone else. They had a guest at the dinner table! Oh, so that’s why the formal dining room with its regal décor and thirty-seater table was being used and they had been summoned to attend the dinner.

 

“Who?” Sherlock asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Mycroft said.

 

“Let’s find out then.”

“Sure, after you.”

 

“Am I the woman or what?”

 

“Fine. I’ll go in first.”

 

“Yeah, better.”

 

Shooting glares at each other, they walked in.

 

The very next moment they froze like a couple of antelopes caught in the sharp headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

 

Seated at the table and chatting up a storm with Reginald and Eugenia was a young man about the same age as Sherlock’s. He was clad in an Armani suit and he had dark hair and dark eyes, a killer smile and an overall gorgeousness that was unearthly in a way. Nobody who walked this planet could be that abnormally gorgeous and sexy, no way! The two Holmes boys stared at him for a full minute without a single blink, their pants suddenly feeling too tight.

 

“Myc, Lock? Myc….Lock….what’s with the boys…..hello?”

 

Eugenia’s rebuke worked, as did Reginald’s impatient clearing of his throat. Mycroft was the first to snap out of the moment and he kicked Sherlock subtly to get him out of that stupor. Sherlock promptly bent down and pretended to tie his shoelaces, but in reality he massaged the spot where he had been kicked, giving his elder brother a death-glare.

 

“Mycroft, Sherlock, meet James Isaac Moriarty,” Reginald called out in his deep, booming voice, “James is the son of my high school pal Colin Patrick Moriarty. Colin and his wife Jeannie divorced many years ago and James went to boarding school in Switzerland at first, then to high school in California, before graduating from Stanford. He is a brilliant civil engineer and has recently completed his business management degree from NYU. A few years ago Colin passed away and left his London properties and inheritance for James while his Dublin based assets went to his elder son Jeremy who is in the army.”

 

“Whew uncle Reginald, that’s a very long introduction,” James answered, a naughty glint in his eyes, “Hello Mycroft, Sherlock!”

 

“H…lo,” Mycroft cleared his throat. He had never felt so tongue tied before anyone before. But then this James was quite different from anyone else he had ever met. He was exquisite!

 

“Huh-loo,” Sherlock found himself breathless from excitement. He too was veering between lusting after this sexy little fella and trying to come across as a true gentleman and greeting him the proper way. What a beautiful creature!

 

“Boys,” Eugenia looked startled, “Where are your manners?”

 

It was only then that the two brothers noticed James’ outstretched hand.

 

***

 

Dinner proved to be an extraordinary affair.

 

James turned out to be as much of a smooth and entertaining talker as he was a good looker. Frequently breaking out into infectious laughter, exposing his pearly whites, he chatted about several things with all of them, equally dividing his attention between the family members.

 

Sherlock kept stealing glances at their guest, staying silent for most of the time. He wasn’t sure he could talk lucidly and smartly like he usually did, not when he was so caught up in analyzing this stranger who had managed to tug at all the strings of his heart within five minutes of meeting him. Mycroft was similarly quiet and introspective, focusing on his food so he could avoid looking into those shiny glittering dark brown eyes, eyes which seemed to consume his heart and soul.

 

Once dinner was over, Eugenia took James to show him some of the paintings the family had owned for generations. James was an art enthusiast and a bit of an artist himself, so he eagerly followed the mistress of the house. They talked enthusiastically about Monet and Modigliani and Van Gogh, leaving both Sherlock and Mycroft wonder how someone could get so close so quickly to their formidable and usually introverted mother.

 

“Um….Myc, Lock, we need to talk,” Reginald said.

 

The two brothers silently followed their father into the study which also doubled up as their old man’s home office. The spacious room was also the family library and two of its walls were filled with bookshelves that stretched from the ground to the ceiling, housing complete series of rare travelogues and journals, fiction and non-fiction, biographies and autobiographies, even famous books for students like Grey’s Anatomy and Machinery’s Handbook. On the third wall were various photographs from Reginald’s business wins while the fourth side was where the old man kept his huge desk and ergonomic leather chair. Behind him were two massive windows and he opened them wide before taking a seat.

 

“The air is cool but pleasant tonight,” he said, “Sit down, both of you.”

 

His sons did so.

 

“I have taken a decision and I expect you to honor it,” he went on, leaving Mycroft staring at him while Sherlock stared at both Mycroft and his father, his gaze shifting from one to the other, “I have decided to recruit James as a consultant in our company. A 1 year contract.”

 

Mycroft’s heart leapt in his chest. One whole year of working with this wonderful creature!

 

Sherlock tried not to grin. This was a fantastic idea. Of course he would welcome it.

 

“I see none of you are displeased,” Reginald said, “That’s nice. James is a very talented, competent man and I have reason to believe he’s been an astounding success in whichever project he has worked on so far. He was associated with Jackson and Keith engineering in the United States and quit that job to move back to London. He wants to live here and has been looking for an opening for the past few days. Needless to say, he has three offers on the table besides the one we have.”

 

“The question is,” Sherlock said, “Why would he choose ours?”

 

“Because he gets to sign a project based contract with a hefty allowance and a decent profit sharing amount at the end of it and not a full-term employment contract with a regular salary.”

 

“Oh, so he doesn’t want to…..”

 

“No he’s not interested in doing a regular job. He has inherited a neat sum from his dad. Maybe not as much as we have but I’d say, about thirty to forty million. He wants to gather some more experience and leverage that to start his own company over the next two years. Our project is very plum and rewarding, it also gives him an opportunity to fly back and forth between London and Dubai and he loves that travel. So yes, he is willing to work with us.”

 

Mycroft couldn’t help himself. “When does he start?”

 

Reginald’s eyes twinkled at the eagerness in his son’s voice. “Immediately if we wish. In fact, his London home is undergoing renovations at the moment so your mother and I have asked him to stay with us for the next few weeks. We like him, he’s an intelligent and well-read man and full of life and energy. It would be nice if you don’t treat him like a consultant or employee but as a friend. Over the next whole year he will fly back and forth with one of both of you to Dubai and if you so wish you can let him stay at our apartment at the Burj Khalifa. Anyways, I leave that decision up to you. Good luck with the project.”

 

“Sure dad,” Mycroft straightened his back.

 

“Done dad,” Sherlock added.

 

The two brothers raced out of the study and went straight to their bedrooms. There was a huge amount of new information to be processed and they needed to be alone for that. Solitude often brought out the best analysis and ideas. As they reached the top of the stairwell, for the first time in several years they didn’t even kiss each other goodnight. They simply retreated to their bedrooms in silence.

 

Eugenia entered the study with two glasses of brandy. “How did it go?” She asked.

 

“So far really good,” he accepted one glass and took a sip, “Where’s James?”

 

“He was tired. I let him retire for the night. Delightful young man, isn’t he?”

 

“Very much so! Now let’s just hope one of our boys takes a shine towards him.”

 

“One? What if both of them do?”

 

Reginald gave a crooked grin, “If that happens, we’d just have to say ‘let the best man win’.”

 

Eugenia’s brows shot up, “Oh for God’s sake Reggie, don’t make it sound like we’re enjoying a grandstand view of a play. This is about our sons, our two little boys! While I am all for James becoming a part of our family, I wouldn’t want him to drive a wedge between Myc and Lockie.”

 

“Just joking darling,” Reginald replied, “Knowing the boys, they might make James an object of scientific interest rather than a fiancé.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim slowly starts to worm his way into the hearts of the two Holmes siblings. Mrs. Hudson suspects some calamity in the future.

Mycroft had barely managed to sleep that night. For long hours he had lain awake, thinking about James Moriarty and wondering why this five-foot eight-inch Irishman with his lilting Dublin accent and playful manners had managed to turn his world upside down with a mere smile. Nobody, not even a single person in this world was allowed to have such a profound effect on him. He was Mycroft fucking Holmes, not some Tom-Dick-Harry.

 

He had risen early, done an hour and half on the treadmill, and decided to have an early breakfast and reach work by eight. Maybe if he got engrossed in work and the ‘to-do’s’ of the day he would have less thoughts about a certain ‘James’.

 

As he passed by the bedroom mummy had allotted to their guest, he was appalled to find himself staring at the slightly ajar door. _Don’t Mycroft, don’t do this, you’re inviting trouble on yourself, just don’t please_. It was his common-sense yelling at him to be cautious and Mycroft understood the logic behind it, but caution was thrown out with the bathwater as he found himself advancing towards the door to take a peek inside. He knew he shouldn’t do this. He knew this was a gross violation of the privacy of a house-guest, yet he took a look inside. He simply pushed the door open and peered in.

 

Beyond the tiny anteroom was the spacious and comfortable bedroom and lying on the massive king-size bed at the center of it was James. He was fast asleep, shirtless and clad in a pair of dark green shorts. He had kicked the covers down, exposing most parts of an arm, hip and leg.

 

Mycroft swallowed.

 

Still he kept staring. The milky smooth skin, the mounds of flesh that formed James’ pert butt, feet that were really shapely and pretty. He could smell James too, a faint mix of some body lotion and residual cologne. A hint of his shampoo as well and a spicy scent that was his own.

 

“Mycroft!”

 

Mycroft turned so quickly he almost felt dizzy. “Mrs. Hudson,” he recovered admirably and put on his ‘masked expression’.

 

“Wrong room,” she said pleasantly and warmly.

 

“Yeah, thought I was getting into Lockie’s.”

 

“Yeah, I thought so. He’s been up for hours though. He’s already dressed and sitting in the conservatory, having tea.”

 

Mycroft startled again. Sherlock ready for the day and drinking tea at 7-30 am. When was the last time that had happened? Maybe never!

 

***

 

Sherlock sat scowling, half way through his second cup of tea.

 

He hated being awake at this hour. Unlike Mycroft who followed a routine, he thrived on everything unconventional and unpredictable. Sometimes he slept at 4 am, just to see how long he could stay awake without nodding off.

 

But the night before had been very different from the nights so far in his young life. He had initially fallen asleep but strange dreams about this James had woken him up a mere three hours later. An embarrassing wetness in his pajama bottoms had colored his cheeks bright red and he had realized those dreams had given him the first nightfall since his teenage years. Never before had anybody aroused him with a mere look. Never before had he dreamt of any particular person and stayed awake for hours later, just thinking about him.

 

Nobody was supposed to influence him so alarmingly, intensely, overwhelmingly.

 

He didn’t like it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. He had actually spent a sleepless night because of his strange feelings towards James Moriarty, a man he had met less than twelve hours ago.

 

To make matters worse, he had done something totally ridiculous before getting out of bed. He had jerked off to thoughts of a naked and moaning James. He had closed his eyes and pretended that his fist was James’ tight arse, that he was fucking him into the mattress till kingdoms came. Funnily enough, those visions had given him the most awesome orgasm ever, making him see yellow sparks on a canvas of dazzling blackness.

 

Sherlock sighed and sipped his tea again, wincing when he realized it had gone cold.

 

“Awake at this hour? Isn’t it midnight for you?”

 

Sherlock huffed, “Don’t speak to me.”

 

“I know,” Mycroft sat down next to him and poured himself a cup, “You’re a notoriously late riser. Over weekends you sleep till noon. Hope all is well Lockie.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t call me Lockie. I am not fourteen anymore.”

 

“You just realized that?”

 

“Someday I had to.”

 

Mycroft gave him a narrow-eyed stare before he abruptly switched topics. “Listen, I want to give James a full tour of our company premises, then an overview of the org structure and our financials. I know we have a call with the Galactica oil company but I don’t think I can make it. Just handle that conference call on your own and let me know if they have any questions for me. I can email them later or set up another shorter call next week.”

 

“On the other hand, I was wondering if I should give James a detailed overview of the project for which he has been recruited,” Sherlock was taken aback by Mycroft’s decision to take James under his wing, “That would be more appropriate for him rather than a whole bird’s eye view of our entire company. He has nothing to do with financials or the hallways and corridors of our London office or the human resource structure and policies. He is a consultant and his key role is with the Abu Dhabi project. Perhaps we should let him focus on that and not scatter his attention over every arm and leg of Holmes Corporation.”

 

“Don’t be obtuse,” Mycroft looked displeased, “He needs to know the company he’s just signed up for. You never know when he needs some piece of information. Being informed is a good thing, he will know whom to reach out to if he has questions about his pay, or doubts about his contractual obligations.”

 

“As dad said,” Sherlock argued again, “He is not an employee or consultant but a family friend’s son. If he has any issues, any doubts, we should be able to clear that. We should be able to help him instead.”

“So we will,” Mycroft got up after finishing his tea, “That’s why I need to know him better.”

 

“You…what?”

 

“See you at the office Lockie.”

 

“Myc…..”

 

“I am taking the limo. Drive the Ferrari today if you so wish.”

 

Sherlock watched Mycroft walk off and nearly threw his empty cup at the back of his head. Gritting his teeth he looked at his watch, just to distract himself from the anger that washed over him. 7:45 am. Maybe he should head to work too. No point hanging out here.

 

“Excuse me….”

 

That voice! That honeyed voice. He could recognize it from a mile away. “James,” he said by means of a greeting, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground.

 

“I wanted some help.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes quickly darted up and looked at James. Clad in a pair of green shorts and a semi-transparent white tee, he looked adorable with his bed hair and the light stubble peppering his jawline. “I…um….I don’t know how to say this but….I was hoping we could head to work together this morning,” Jim said hesitantly, “I have purchased a car but it’s yet to be….um delivered, so….”

 

 _He wants to come along with me, it’s a good start, usually well begun is half-done!_ “That is no problem at all, I can give you a ride every morning if that’s okay,” Sherlock stated enthusiastically, peeling his eyes off the other man’s chest which was partially visible through the thin material of his T-shirt. When James looked down and met Sherlock’s eye, the younger Holmes had the decency to blush and changed the topic right away. “Would you like some breakfast and tea? Muffins, eggs, pancakes, fruit bowl, just name it and our chef Stacy will be right on the job.”

 

“Can I get coffee instead of tea? The abominable American habit, you see.”

 

“Cough….coffee…..of course…yes, let me organize it.”

 

“Don’t bother, I already….”

 

“No, I will get it for you….”

 

“Sherlock stop.”

 

Sherlock had opened his mouth to say something again when Stacy entered the conservatory with a tray and a steaming mug of coffee on it. “Here you go Mr. Moriarty,” she said with a friendly smile, “Your coffee, strong and black with just a little cream and one sugar added. I have also prepared breakfast for you. Would you like your fried bread and sunny side up eggs here or at the kitchen live-counter?”

 

“You already organized breakfast for yourself?” Sherlock asked. _That means he is very self-reliant. He could hail a cab and get to work. But he wants me to drive him there, so does that mean he actually wants to spend time with me? He wants my company? Is that really happening or am I reading too much into it?_

 

“Yeah, Stacy asked and I told her,” James giggled, “I’ll have it here Stacy. Sherlock, will you have breakfast with me as well?”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said instantly, “Yes I would love to. Eggs and bread are my favorite too, especially the sunny side ups.”

 

Stacy gave Sherlock an appalled look, “You told me not to prepare breakfast for you. you said you’re not well.”

 

“I am well now,” Sherlock snarled.

 

She opened her mouth to argue but decided against continuing the debate. Once she had left, Sherlock gave a sideways glance to Jim who was sniffing at the vapors rising from the steaming mug of coffee he had just picked up. With cute round cheeks, beautifully arched brows, long lashes and an enviable jawline, James was straight out of one of Munch’s paintings. There was an elegance, realism and symbolism in those features which could speak of a story in depth or skim the surfaces of several stories. James was mysterious, enigmatic and yet open and refreshingly candid. He seemed real one moment and unreal the very next.

 

“Sherl…..Sherl…..Sherl!!!”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re staring.”

 

“I am staring?”

 

“Yeah, at my face.”

 

Sherlock laughed at his own predicament. No way to escape this one. “Um….I was just thinking about something and….”

“And my face was a good canvas to paint your thoughts on?” James laughed.

 

“No James, your face is very pretty. That’s all I have to say.”

 

“Call me Jim.”

 

Sherlock’s heart was already gladdened by the nickname Jim had used for him. ‘Sherl’. That was new. Usually he was Will or Lock or Lockie. Sherl sounded really nice, as did Jim….or maybe Jimmy later on. “It will be Jim and Sherl from now on then,” he said with a sense of happiness that bubbled all the way down to his gut and made him feel insanely energetic, “So then, let’s have breakfast and be on our way to work. Office starts at 9 sharp and if we hurry we can still make it on time.”

 

Jim grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pulled him towards the chair next to him, “All right then. Let’s have breakfast together.”

 

***

 

Mycroft stood at the window of his corner office, frowning at the scene below. He saw Sherlock’s red Ferrari roll into the office premises and had half-expected his younger sibling to step out of it, looking hassled about being late again ( _how did he manage to get so delayed when he was all dressed and ready an hour and half ago_ ). Instead he saw a smaller man emerge from the driver’s seat and Sherlock got out from the passenger’s side, sporting a broad grin and making expansive gestures towards the office building.

 

 _James was driving the car, he was the one who had been behind the wheel_! Sherlock had struck the first blow and made James accompany him to the office. He had even let James drive his Ferrari, about which he was more possessive than his own name.

 

Without another word Mycroft started to walk towards the doorway and stood there, positioning himself in a manner that didn’t allow anyone coming down the hallway to spot him but from where he could keep an eye on anybody who exited the elevators. As he had calculated already, it took about nine minutes for Sherlock and James to park the car in the reserved slot, walk to the elevator and arrive at the seventh floor where the executive offices were. He heard them even before he saw them. The moment the elevator doors opened he heard Sherlock talk about the cafeteria for the employees and the private dining hall for all those who held leadership positions in the company. James mentioned about some strange food he had tried at Peru.

 

“Welcome James,” he emerged from his room and startled them both.

 

Sherlock scowled. James simply blinked and then grinned, “Hey Mycroft.”

 

“We follow a formal dress code Monday to Thursday here,” Mycroft looked at James’ jeans and collared T shirt, “I know you’ve worked in America, with companies that follow a more informal culture perhaps, but here we follow some rules. No mistake from your side, I thought my brother should have updated you about it.”

 

Sherlock shot back, “This is his first day and technically he isn’t our employee.”

 

Mycroft coolly retorted, “But this applies to our partners, vendors and consultants as well.”

 

James quickly butted in, “It’s okay guys. My bad. I should have asked. I’ll go back and don a suit or something more appropriate….”

 

“No,” Mycroft said forcefully, “You don’t need to do that. Why don’t you start off by settling down in your cabin, then going through the project details, having your mailbox set up on our company server and all of that. Around noon I’ll take you out for lunch and after that we can visit a store I know where they stitch suits in one hour on special requests. We will get you a nice new suit to wear for the meeting we have with clients at six.”

 

“Oh, one-hour service, wow,” James exclaimed.

 

“Yeah, one-hour cleaning services, one-hour stitching services, those guys are the wizards!”

 

“Yeah, that’s what it seems like. All right, see you at noon!”

 

James walked on but Sherlock stopped and looked at Mycroft who looked back at him levelly, a silent argument brewing between the two brothers. _Whatever you try to do, I can go one-up on you! Oh yeah, whenever you go one-up on me I can better that in no time!_ While Mycroft was taken aback by Sherlock arriving at work with James and letting him drive his prized sports car, Sherlock was equally annoyed by the way Mycroft had hijacked Jim for lunch and even offered to get him a suit stitched with express timelines. He felt compelled to compete with his elder brother and wondered what he could do to make himself look more resourceful in Jim’s eyes.

 

“Sherl?” Jim called, realizing he was walking alone and had no idea which cabin to step into.

 

“Coming Jim,” Sherlock answered, pointedly showing Mycroft that they were on nickname-terms with each other. It was very satisfying for him to note the scowl on Mycroft’s face.

 

***

 

“Mrs. Holmes?”

 

“Oh Mrs. Hudson, please do come in, have a seat.”

 

Mrs. Hudson walked into the parlor where Eugenia Holmes was sitting with a laptop open in front of her. “I have to plan the charity luncheon for next weekend,” she said, “Usually Felicia does that but she’s on holiday and it’s all on me. I was thinking of making it a garden party instead of hiring some small cramped place at a five-star hotel. Oh sorry, you wanted to talk to me about something?”

 

“I have a weird question for you ma’am,” Mrs. Hudson said, “If push comes to shove and you need to take a call, which son would you choose to support?”

 

Eugenia frowned, “Excuse me?”

 

“So far Myc and Lock have always chosen different things but in case, just in case, they choose the same, which one would you support and who would you ask to step back?” Mrs. Hudson asked and, upon seeing her confused look, added, “I am speaking about a love-interest.”

 

Eugenia shrugged, “I know what you mean. As they say, birth, death and falling in love, it’s all pre-ordained. There is nothing you or I can do. But, as you mentioned, Myc and Lock hardly ever choose the same things so I am pretty confident they won’t end up choosing the same person. In fact, I highly doubt if any of them will fall in love with James. My boys are too busy with work and being independent free birds to risk being weighed down by a relationship.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Mycroft no longer feel the same about each other.....

“A relationship?” Mycroft raised his brows with a smile, “Like a romantic one where you wine and dine with the other person and send roses and gifts, pop a bottle of champers on their birthday?”

 

“Yeah,” James said, “That kind of relationship. Ever been in one? Did you have a husband?”

 

Mycroft’s mood had changed considerably since the morning. From annoyed and irritable to relaxed and happy, he was at ease as he sat at the back of his limousine with James sitting opposite him and talking to him animatedly. They were on their way to the tailor’s and the plan was to first get the fitting and fabric done and chosen before they headed to an Italian joint for lunch. By the time they’d finish their meal, the suit would be ready and a tie would also be added to it as a ‘special gift’ to their valued customer. Mycroft had called in advance and ensured all of that.

 

“Husband?” The elder Holmes asked, “Why don’t we stick to a boyfriend for now?”

 

“You’re too old to have a boyfriend,” James said without batting an eyelid, “You’re in your thirties, right? I thought a husband or a partner would be more appropriate.”

 

Mycroft shifted in his seat, “Um….no, I never had a proper boyfriend. I mean there were a couple of occasions when I did spend um…uh….”

“The night with someone?” James laughed, “Happens to the best of us. Why hesitate to talk about it?”

 

Mycroft smiled sheepishly, “I guess I am a bit taken aback by your forwardness.”

 

“I am equally taken aback by how repressed you are,” James snickered.

 

“No James, it’s just that we are very different when it comes to choosing a sex partner or a romantic partner. Compatibility is very important to us.”

 

“Us? Are you speaking on behalf of Sherl as well?”

 

“No….yes…..maybe.”

 

“Wow, which box should I tick? Yes, No, or Maybe?”

 

It was a funny remark and Mycroft found himself smiling broadly. It had been a while since he had smiled like that, without inhibitions, without sarcasm, without any dollar or pound values attached to it. It felt good, he felt lighter, happier, more carefree than he had ever felt in his adult life. “I see that you do have a good sense of humor,” James noted with a lopsided smile, “Please call me Jim Mikey.”

 

“You can call me Mikey but I’d like to call you James, if you don’t mind,” Mycroft declared, “I just like the name.”

 

“Very well, your wish,” Jim said and stared out of the window, enthusiastically noting things about the new buildings that had come up in that part of the city, telling Mycroft tales about how the construction industry was in North America, how it was expected to be in the Middle East and much more. Mycroft found himself sinking into love, not just falling but descending so deep that he knew he wouldn’t surface ever again. Those eyes, that voice, that quirky intelligence, that naughty smile, those hands, what was there not to love? It was so easy to talk to Jim, he was interested and well-informed about everything.

 

***

 

“No,” Mycroft insisted, “I want this indigo blue for James, not that cobalt blue. And please don’t make him float in his suit. I want it snug around the hips and thighs, looser around the seat, the right kind of fall around the knees and down to the ankle.”

 

Jim stared in wide eyed curiosity as the tailor and Mycroft kept talking and disagreeing, talking more and agreeing, noting various measurements and then altering them, changing them. If he as amused then it showed in the twinkle of his eyes.

 

At one point a readymade suit was fetched for Jim to get into so the measurements of that suit, the cut and fitting and fall could be used as a prototype for the actual suit to be stitched. Due to a slight miscommunication, Mycroft stepped into the trial room instead of the tailor who had stepped away a bit to answer a phone call from his wife. The elder Holmes gasped and knocked the back of his head against the door when he saw Jim standing in his underwear, sporting nothing other than a pair of clingy black briefs, the suit still hanging on the wall.

 

“Oh sorry,” he quickly averted his eyes, “I thought you had worn them already.”

 

“Are we getting late?” Jim asked, seemingly unbothered by the intrusion.

 

“Sorry it’s taking so much time but we must get the fit correct. There’s nothing worse than an ill-fitting suit.”

 

“I agree. Um…Mikey?”

 

“Y-Yes?”

 

“Help me get into this?”

 

Mycroft’s first instinct was to refuse or just walk out but that was quickly replaced by a sheer thrill of getting closer to this alluring creature. He found himself proceeding towards his new friend and helping him with the clothes. As he buttoned the shirt, helped him into the jacket and assisted him in smoothing down the folds of the trousers, Mycroft felt transported to another world. A world where nobody but he and Jim existed, where all he could see was Jim, all he could breathe in was Jim, all he could feel was Jim.

 

He heard his own ragged breathing match the soft pants of the younger man when he went down on his knees to pull and tug at the edges of Jim’s trousers, letting it fit snugly over the curves of his calves, thighs and butt.

 

Various thoughts flew inside his head and the normally unflappable Mycroft began to wrestle with his own desire to grab the other man and kiss him or just get back to his feet and pretend nothing happened. _If anyone saw me right now they’d think I am about to blow him and oh my God, I do want to blow him. What’s wrong with me? Or maybe, finally something is right with me. I am behaving like a normal thirty-five-year-old man._ Mycroft let his thoughts run amok as he gently fastened the button on the waistband of Jim’s trousers. He could smell the faint musk from Jim’s groin before the fly was zipped up by the Irishman, he could feel the heat from his skin, he could almost taste the sweet perspiration that had gathered on Jim’s temple. He was cute, utterly cute, even his sweat was so cute!

 

“Do you like?” Jim’s sharp voice made Mycroft blink and look at him with a start.

 

“Yes, I like you very much,” he answered unwittingly.

 

“I mean, the fitting.”

 

“Oh….yes, I meant that, the fitting, I like how the suit fits you perfectly.”

 

Jim tilted his head to one side and extended his hand, helping Mycroft up. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, Jim unknowingly stepping closer and Mycroft’s arms coming up to rest on Jim’s shoulders, his large hands covering most of his shoulder blades. Their lips were only inches apart and their eyes slowly moved to each other’s lips, Mycroft eyeing Jim’s juicy buds and Jim staring eagerly at Mycroft’s slightly open mouth.

 

Slowly Jim’s eyes fluttered shut.

 

Mycroft was about to close the distance when the tailor burst into the trial room, grinning like a loon and announcing that he had the indigo blue fabric, just like Mycroft wanted for Jim.

 

The two men jumped apart, disappointment obvious in their eyes.

 

***

 

“Hey Jim!”

 

“Sherl, come on in.”

 

Sherlock stepped into Jim’s room and closed the door behind him, tiptoeing to the bed and getting in beside the other man. Jim moved just enough for Sherlock to get in but not enough to give him his own space. “Okay, let’s choose which movie we shall watch tonight,” Jim said excitedly, opening a window and pulling up a list on his MacBook Pro, “I have several of them downloaded on my laptop. I have Guns of Navarone, Ben Hur, Good Bad and Ugly, Twelve Angry Men, To Kill a Mockingbird, A Few Good Men, The Towering Inferno and The Poseidon Adventure. There, loads of them for you choose from, take your pick Mr. Sherly Holmes!”

 

Sherlock looked at the list in astonishment, “These are classics, courtroom dramas or disaster movies!”

 

Dark molten caramel eyes turned on him, “Yes, obviously.”

 

“These are my favorite genres.”

 

“Yes bozo. Why else would I put this list together?”

 

“You did this for me?”

“I just downloaded some movies. Don’t make it seem like I donated a kidney.”

 

Sherlock kept looking at Jim, making the smaller man giggle and then click his fingers a few times before his dazed eyes. “Hey, where did you go off to? I said, pick a movie and we can watch. I don’t like leaving movies half way though, so please don’t nod off in between.”

 

Sherlock blinked, “Um….The Towering Inferno!”

 

“All righty!”

 

They started watching, initially pointing at some bloopers and laughing at some scenes, then settled into quiet viewing as the fire broke out and the movie grew more serious in tone. Sometime during the half-way mark, Sherlock realized Jim had gone very quiet. He was about to turn his head and ask if they should stop at that point when a mild heaviness descended on his shoulder. That was followed by the rasp of silken locks against his stubble.

 

“Great, you ask me not to nod off and then do the same thing yourself,” Sherlock snorted but he couldn’t resist sniffing at the hairs tickling his neck and cheek.

 

He kept watching the film almost till the end, until the part came where the fire was doused by water from an overhead tank and the movie meandered its way towards the climax scenes. By then it was way past 1 am and Sherlock, comfortable as a beaver in his hidey-hole, fell asleep with his cheek resting against the side of Jim Moriarty’s head. He had a small smile on his lips and one of his arms wrapped around his companion as he slept, the laptop slowly running out of battery until it switched off completely.

 

***

 

When Sherlock woke up he gasped. He gasped loud enough to wake someone in the next room.

 

He was sleeping on his back and Jim as practically lying on top of him. The last thing he remembered was watching a Paul Newman and Steve McQueen film with Jim asleep on his shoulder. He must have fallen asleep and during the course of the night they must have moved, ending up in that position. All good, except for one thing. _He was rock hard and so was Jim_ , who was still asleep but slowly moving his hips back and forth. That slight rubbing and friction was taking Sherlock closer and closer to the edge and if this continued for a minute longer he would end up creaming his pants.

 

For a split-second Sherlock just wanted to throw Jim on his back, kiss him hard, push his pants down, climb on top of him and then jerk them both off to a simultaneous orgasm. His whole body begged for that and he felt his breathing slowly get heavier and heavier till he was panting from lust and want. Never before had he experienced such an acute lack of control, such an incredible need to find release. But, before he could take that step, his better senses prevailed and he realized he was about to take advantage of a sleeping man who had no idea what was going on around him.

 

No, he was no savage. If he had to have sex with Jim it would be with the man’s explicit consent.

 

To his relief Jim rolled off him and curled up on his side. Sherlock held his breath, extricated himself from that difficult position and ran out of the room as if there were wolves on his tail. He didn’t even look back, lest he got tempted to jump back into that bed again.

 

***

 

Mycroft paced about in his room, restless and jittery.

 

Something kept him up that night. The man who slept at eleven and woke up at the stroke of six-thirty am was wide awake even though it was past midnight.

 

Ever since that moment with Jim in the trial room of his favorite tailoring store, Mycroft had felt sexual tension round the clock and couldn’t find even a single moment’s relief. Jerking off hadn’t helped, nor had watching porn or using a toy. Three days and two and half nights had passed and he still felt overwhelmed by the memories of those moments. They had been so close to kissing, almost a hair width away from each other’s lips, that he could almost ‘taste’ it.

 

He had a pronounced bulge in his trousers which Jim had to have noticed. He was sure Jim had noticed just how tight Mycroft’s trousers had become too.

 

Mycroft sighed as he heard the tapping knock on the door. “Who is it?” He called out irritably, thinking for a moment that he should probably move to his penthouse apartment in Chelsea. More privacy, less intrusions. But then Jim was going to be living here in this house……

 

Before he could finish his thoughts, he heard the doorknob turned by an impatient hand. Next second the door opened and closed and suddenly he had an armful of Sherlock who clung to him, letting Mycroft feel his hard member against his thigh. Those green eyes bore into him as Sherlock silently conveyed his need to his older brother, a typical move from him which involved no words and all gestures and puppy gazes. Mycroft was powerless to resist. Over the years he had moved from predator to prey and Sherlock had moved from the innocent debauched angel to the demanding gorgeous ruffian. If he asked for something he always got it, period!

 

“Bed,” Mycroft instructed, “Strip and lie there.”

 

 _In a way I need this too so it’s good he’s here and asking for it_ , Mycroft thought as he got out of his clothes and moved swiftly towards his brother. Sherlock had taken off his top but was struggling to get the bottoms off.

 

“Kiddo,” Mycroft murmured as he pulled it off and pinned Sherlock down against the mattress.

 

Sherlock grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him but froze half way. This didn’t feel quite so right anymore. It didn’t feel so great either. Yes, his physical need had to be satiated but sex with Myc wasn’t going to douse the fire burning inside him that screamed for ‘Jim’. His eyes opened and he kept them open as he allowed Mycroft to continue the kiss, not wanting to break the momentum. The moment Mycroft broke the kiss to look into his face he closed his eyes again.

 

“Lockie?”

 

“Mmmm, make me cum.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“Y-Yeah. You?”

 

“Yeah-yeah-yeah, m’fine!”

 

This time none of them looked in the other’s eyes, afraid their lies would get exposed then and there. With a deep breath, Mycroft brought his hand down to grab at their twin rods.

 

***

 

Sherlock woke up with a start.

 

He had dozed off after coming, something he usually did. But unlike earlier occasions when he mostly slept through the night in his sibling’s arms, this time he found himself awake in an hour and lying next to Mycroft rather than wrapped around him. He looked at his brother’s face to see if he was asleep but no, Mycroft’s eyes were open and focused on the ceiling. He was wide awake and hadn’t slept at all.

 

For a moment Sherlock wished it was Jim lying next to him and not Mycroft. But the picture wouldn’t change, neither did the situation. Jim was in his own room, not here. Sherlock sighed loudly and closed his eyes for a few minutes. Again he saw Jim. That confounded creature had started taking over his thoughts completely and it scared him to some extent. He didn’t want to lose his mind. With Jim around but inaccessible, he was beginning to lose his mind. Something had to give or very soon he’d end up doing a terrible, terrible thing, like maybe force himself on Jim and then regret it forever.

 

With another dramatic sigh he got up.

 

“I’ll sleep in my room tonight,” he declared. It wasn’t a plea or a request for permission but a statement. He didn’t wait for Mycroft to respond, instead choosing to quickly pull on his clothes so he could leave.

 

Mycroft was lying in silence, wondering why sex and release had left him feeling more dissatisfied than earlier. Usually a quick and caressing tryst with Sherlock left him sated, drowsy and happy. Often it stoked his appetite, sometime it helped him sleep deeply for several hours. But not tonight. Tonight this just seemed inadequate, not enough, short of expectations. It had nothing to do with Sherlock who was just as adorable and beautiful as he always was, it was all about his own expectations.

 

He wanted to hold Jim in his arms and listen to that heavy Dublin accent. He wondered if it got thicker when Jim was sleepy.

 

 _“I’ll sleep in my room tonight”_ he heard his brother say.

 

Maybe Sherlock had picked up on his mood. He didn’t want to let the sharp young man guess anything more than he already had.

 

“Yeah sure,” he replied and rolled over to face the other side.

 

He heard footsteps walking out of the room and for the first time in fourteen years didn’t feel like stopping him, nor did the bed suddenly seem too big.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jim get closer but Mycroft is not too far behind!

As luck would have it, Sherlock had to fly to Dubai two days later to kick start the project and Jim had to accompany him. As the chief engineer it was Jim’s duty to build the entire project blueprint and allocate work to the different groups, bring his team of engineers on board with the strategy and the phase-by-phase approach of the entire project, and also make an initial presentation to the clients. Sherlock, as the Chief Sales Officer of the Holmes Corp, was supposed to be there to ensure all the commitments he had made at the point of sale were being baked into the work streams.

 

Sherlock couldn’t stop grinning. Two months at Dubai and Abu Dhabi with Jim sounded absolutely brilliant.

 

Mycroft knew this was going to happen. Jim had to move to Dubai for a few weeks, that was his job after all, but the elder Holmes sibling took heart from the fact that Jim would be back soon to work with him for three new projects they were bidding for, helping him with specifications on the plans Mycroft planned to submit. He would also give Mycroft the cost estimations for these projects so a proper quote could be submitted. Mycroft had also planned to fly to New Mexico with Jim so the latter could take a look at their ongoing project there, Santa Fe, and give his opinion on the progress. At least six weeks with Jim, it sounded good. He’d wait two months.

 

On the flight, Jim and Sherlock had been allotted first class bed-seats next to each other. As that section offered space, comfort and privacy to the patrons, they were not exactly side by side but it gave them enough proximity to have a conversation without raising their voices.

 

“Feels lonely,” Sherlock grumbled.

 

“Sounds whiny,” Jim snorted.

 

“Can’t we watch a movie together?” Sherlock insisted.

 

“When we land there, we can,” Jim replied, grinning slightly.

 

“No, I mean now.”

 

“Sherl, we can’t do something like that now.”

 

Sherlock grimaced and was about to let out one of his dramatic sighs when he heard the playful chortle of Jim’s laughter. It had slowly started to become his favorite sound. Then he heard the words that would change his life forever.

 

“We can do something else.”

 

Sherlock literally jumped up in his seat, eyes shining with anticipation and cock hard for the same reasons. Did Jim really mean than, THAT? He had heard about the mile-high club but never thought in his wildest dreams he would become a member. Heck, he hadn’t even had sex with Jim yet and they’d start with sex in an airplane toilet? How cool and jazzy was that! He could hardly wait.

 

“I meant that we could have a drink at the bar, the upper deck has a bar,” Jim winked.

 

Sherlock’s face registered several emotions at the same time. Embarrassment, apprehension, rejection, disappointment, annoyance, a sense of letdown and distress, everything became prominent against the canvas of his expressive, handsome face. It tickled Jim’s funny bone and the Irishman kept snickering and snickering till Sherlock got up with a huff and started walking down the aisle. He had taken only a few steps when a strong hold on his right elbow stopped him and he was pulled sharply around, making him come face to face with a still grinning James Moriarty.

 

“Awww puppy dog,” Jim snorted.

 

“Had your fill of teasing me?” Sherlock snarled.

 

“I haven’t had my fill of you yet, who said I had,” Jim looked up, a strange expression in his eyes. He looked a bit out of it, pupils dilating slightly.

 

“You mean to say….” Sherlock’s voice shook.

 

“In a while….go to that toilet and wait for me.”

 

“Why not now?”

 

“Stupid. People are awake.”

 

“Oh.”

 

***

 

The next two hours passed agonizingly slow.

 

Sherlock couldn’t taste the gourmet meal served to him nor could he find a moment’s peace as he sat on his seat, watching a movie playing on his screen without noticing a single detail. He kept looking at Jim who seemed completely at ease and was sipping orange juice.

 

Finally the lights were dimmed and people, sated with their meals and drowsy from inaction, started to drift off to sleep. Sherlock waited for a few more minutes and when none of the flight attendants seemed to take their ‘rounds’ anymore, he got up and walked towards the toilets. His heart thumped hard in his ribcage, he was nervous as hell, but not for a second did he even consider changing his mind. If sex with Jim had to begin in a cramped airline toilet then so be it. He was all for it.

 

He locked himself in the toilet and waited, waited, waited, till he heard the familiar three knocks that Jim had mentioned he would use to identify himself as the man on the other side. A nervous smile spread on his face and he opened the door.

 

In a flash Jim was inside the toilet, the door was locked and Sherlock found his mouth captured in a hard, demanding, almost soul-consuming kiss. His cock leaked profusely in his underwear as he grabbed fistfuls of Jim’s hairs one moment and his juicy butt cheeks the other, participating enthusiastically in the kiss till they were tongue to tongue and literally battling for dominance in each other’s mouths. They’d part for a moment to draw in a breath and return to the kiss, hands groping and touching as much of each other as possible through all the clothes they were wearing.

 

Suddenly, without warning, Sherlock found Jim on his knees before him and his pants and briefs pulled down. His erection bobbed free, a shiver running through him as cool air touched his hot, throbbing flesh.

 

Then Jim opened his mouth.

 

Sherlock nearly choked. _Would he really?_

 

He watched with eyes agape as his cock disappeared root to tip inside that hot mouth and Jim’s lips stretched over the girth as his never-ending throat almost swallowed Sherlock whole. A strangled cry left the young Englishman whose hips began to move back and forth on their own, fucking that hot mouth and jerking with every flick of a wicked tongue on its head, sides and root. Sherlock placed a large hand on Jim’s head and moaned, trying to enjoy this as much as possible before a shattering climax took over.

 

He lasted a grand total of two minutes, that too with much difficulty. The sounds Jim was making, the way he looked as he blew him, the way that wet and hard tongue felt against the sensitive vein on the underside of his shaft, it was almost too much for the Englishman to bear.

 

“J-Jim….stop….or I’ll cum.”

 

Jim let go of the cock and sang, “That’s what people doooooo!”

 

Then Sherlock watched his cock being swallowed again. This time he couldn’t hold back the release that rushed over and ran through him like an electric shock, rendering his limbs to jelly and his normally sharp brains into a puddle of mush. Everything blurred and he near collapsed.

 

Spurts and spurts of semen shot out of his cock and he felt his entire blood gurgle and pound at his ears and neck. He could hardly breathe, hardly stand, hardly see anything. All he could do was feel the awesome waves of pleasure that shuddered through him one after the other.

 

Slowly the pleasure subsided and he was left with a great sense of relief, disbelief, wellness, satiation and drowsiness. All he wanted to do was to hold this darling little man in his arms and go off to sleep for a few hours but then….he needed to return the favor to Jim. He wanted to do it, he wanted to taste Jim too.

 

His normally wan face flushed and his eyes sparkling like emeralds, he gently pulled Jim up and kissed his forehead. His first blow job and it was so awesome that he was nearly teetering on the verge of forgetting his name! A strange fascination with the Irishman had culminated into something totally wonderful and Sherlock felt sharp tugs at his heartstrings as he wrapped up his new lover in a clinging embrace. Jim melted in his embrace and rubbed his nose against Sherlock’s neck, like a cat trying to get petted, and stayed there for several seconds. Then, in a blink of an eyelid, Jim pulled back and spit the semen right on to the mirror and grinned broadly at a startled Sherlock.

 

“What?”

 

“I am a sword swallower but not a spunk swallower. I gurgle and then spit.”

 

“You’re crazy.”

 

“You’re just getting that now?”

 

“I love your crazy.”

 

“Careful Sherly. Not many can keep up with my crazy. They get burned, I burn the heart out of them usually.”

 

“Burn me. I am all yours.”

 

“Hmmm,” Jim looked thoughtful, “Once we are in the Dubai apartment I might take you up on this offer. For now, let’s head back to our seats. Are you okay?”

 

Sherlock was stunned, “What? Return to our seats? How about I also…..you know….!!!”

 

Jim gave him a curious glance and then looked down at Sherlock’s pants which were still around the man’s knees. He casually pulled them up and allowed Sherlock to fix them, zipping the fly up and letting his knuckles brush the now soft cock for one more time. Sherlock gasped and closed his eyes. “So needy,” Jim kissed at his jawline, “So wonderfully needy. But you haven’t done this before, have you?”

 

“Haven’t blown a man, no.”

 

“Then this isn’t the right place to start.”

 

***

 

Mycroft had been waiting for the clock to show 5 PM. That was when Jim had set up a call with him and he couldn’t wait to hear his voice. At 4:55 PM he was logged in to the Skype call, a video call, eyes trained on the screen and ‘willing’ Jim to show up. It had been only thirteen hours since Jim and Sherlock had left for Dubai with Emirates Airways and already it felt like a whole year had gone past. Mycroft leaned back in his chair. This was not good. He felt like a college boy missing his crush on the first day of summer break. He had never been like that, not even when he was really a college boy.

 

Suddenly he saw Jim join the call.

 

Mycroft sat up instantly and focused on the screen, keeping his face a mask. No point letting the other man know how he felt inside right now. But his right leg kept jiggling constantly as he struggled to stay still with all the pent-up emotions and excitement bubbling inside him like lava. _Iceman my left foot, if they think I can be calm then they’re wrong. No, they are right, I can be calm facing an entire army or staring into the face of holocaust. I can’t be calm when this James comes into my view. That’s when all my iciness flies out of the window, he makes me melt, damn it!_

 

Jim’s face appeared. He looked tired but happy. It had been a good day, evidently.

 

Mycroft wondered how much Sherlock had contributed to that happiness.

 

“Hey Mikey!

 

“James! When did you guys reach?”

 

“Three and half hours ago. Went straight to work and met the client’s representative. Told him our schedule for the next three weeks. Meeting went well.”

 

“Ah, good! So, still in the office? Did you manage to see the apartment we have there?”

 

“We will go now. Just finishing. But I thought I’ll speak to your first. How are you holding up?”

 

“I am fine….wait, what do you mean how am I holding up?”

 

Jim smiled innocently but a wicked look flashed through his beautiful, dark eyes. “Well, I am here and you are thousands of miles away from me now. I am sure that must have affected you to some extent Mikey? No?”

 

Mycroft looked so taken aback that Jim started to laugh. “Oh God,” he said, clapping his hands and laughing to his heart’s content while Mycroft tried to keep his face cool and composed, “Look at you. It seemed as if someone has put his hand into your stomach and pulled your guts out. No need to look so stricken Mikey, I was just joking. I can tease you sometimes, can I not?”

 

Mycroft quickly replied, “Of course you can. I know how to take a joke. Don’t worry.”

 

“You don’t worry either,” Jim went on, taking off his jacket and tie, “You’ll soon get used to my sense of humor.” He took off the top button of his shirt and then unbuttoned three more, exposing part of his chest and driving the knife into Mycroft’s fast-beating heart. As Jim kept talking about the project, the beautiful city of Dubai, about his desire to visit the Atlantis water park and so on and so forth, Mycroft simply allowed himself to float into a dream world where he was the one showing Jim interesting places like the sand dunes in the Arabian desert, the beautiful beaches of the Canary Islands, the snowcapped Himalayas, the luscious beauty of exotic shorelines and cities like Istanbul and Cairo.

 

“The business is in safe hands,” Jim concluded a long spiel, “It will hardly take a year. In fact I intend to complete this in ten months. But I’ll have to fly back and forth to London every two months. I have a house there to remodel, a business idea I am planning to implement.”

 

Mycroft grabbed the chance with both hands, “By all means please do. I am booking your return in exactly two months to London. By then there should be enough people in Abu Dhabi to hold fort in your absence.”

 

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

 

“Sure, go ahead.”

 

“Can you pick up my Jaguar for me? I bought one and they delayed the delivery. I had to fly down here in the meantime, so…..”

 

“No worries, I will.”

 

Jim suddenly looked very stiff and uncomfortable, frequently glancing down at his lap and at some spot under the desk. He kept up a smile though but this time it neither looked wicked nor playful. It looked uneasy. “James,” Mycroft wished he could see what was going on, “All well?”

 

“Oh yes all is well,” Jim replied, wiping his brow, “Very hot here.”

 

“The office should be entirely air conditioned.”

 

“It is. I am just tired. All right, I gotta go. Speak soon Mikey.”

 

“James….”

 

“Speak soon Mikey,” was repeated before the call got disconnected, leaving a lonely Mycroft sitting alone in his cabin and staring at the screen. After a point he touched the screen with the tips of his fingers and whispered, “I miss you James.”

 

***

 

Sherlock and Jim rolled on the large and springy bed, their clothes and shoes flying in every direction, moans and pants rising in the air like flames from a forest fire, the sound of the bed creaking and things on the nightstand rattling added to the human noises. They kissed passionately and soon the loud screech of fabric tearing could be heard as Sherlock tore Jim’s shirt off of his torso rather than take it off the proper way. “Hey hey hey hey,” Jim mock complained as he found himself naked aside from his boxers, “That was a very expensive and beautiful Hugo Boss shirt.”

 

“I am one of the two heirs to a half a billion-dollar fortune,” Sherlock growled possessively as he tugged at Jim’s boxers, “I can buy you a million fucking shirts.”

 

Whatever smart comment Jim wanted to make got lost as Sherlock latched his mouth to the head of Jim’s cock, suckling at the tip while he massaged the balls with his right hand. Jim raised his hips, howling out in full abandon. The sound was so loud and so sexy, so without constraints, that Sherlock stopped whatever he was doing and sat up a little. “Ooops,” Jim cupped his mouth with both hands, his hips thrusting up into nothing but air, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be as quiet as possible.”

 

“It’s just us here, right?” Sherlock licked at the head of Jim’s cock like a lollipop.

 

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

 

“Then make as much noise as you want.”

 

“Ahhhhhnnnnn!”

 

“Yeah baby, just like that.”

 

Sherlock swallowed Jim’s cock as much as he could. The faint musk from his groin acted like an aphrodisiac and he let go of his mouthful to bury his nose in the soft, downy mane. Jim whined and smacked his shoulder. Sherlock immediately took the thick cock back in his mouth and looked up Jim’s flushed body, noting with satisfaction that his inexperience hadn’t made it less enjoyable for the Irishman. Jim was thrashing about and constantly thrusting up into his mouth.

 

Suddenly Sherlock had an idea. He teased Jim’s opening with two fingers and the gorgeous engineer came instantly, filling his mouth with salty-sweet and warm semen!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sherlock get it on like a house on fire while Mycroft buys Jim expensive gifts and mistakenly addresses his employee as James.

Sherlock felt wonderful.

 

His mouth still tasted of Jim’s essence and he enjoyed the aftertaste it left. Never in a million years had he thought he’d not only be a sword swallower but also a swallower of spunk. He had thought about spitting but when his mouth had been flooded by the taste of his lover it had neither seemed repulsive nor bland. It was a nice taste, one he didn’t mind retaining. Swallowing had come naturally to him and he had done that willingly, not impulsively.

 

Now, as they both lay completely naked in bed, Jim still hard and writhing underneath him and their bare skins touching, rubbing and moving against each other, he felt curiously empty inside and really eager to feel full down there. His arse was tingling and so was his groin, it was a surprisingly new and compulsive need which he hadn’t experienced or craved for before. He reversed their positions after a while, so he was underneath Jim, and the moment he felt Jim’s ‘once-again-hard-length’ touch his buttocks he spread his legs and rubbed his opening against the blunt head.

 

The problem was that while Jim had enjoyed a mind-boggling climax a few minutes ago, Sherlock hadn’t cum yet and was on the verge of exploding. If Jim waited too long it would get messy. He’d cum even before they started round two.

 

He rubbed himself there again.

 

“Oh,” Jim’s eyes snapped open, “Sherl whatcha doing?”

 

“What does it look like,” Sherlock was not above begging at this point, “Put it in there.”

 

Jim chuckled, “Put it in there? Is that how you say it?”

 

“Don’t make it about finesse with words,” Sherlock snapped at him, “Just do it Jimmy. I am so close I’ll implode if I can’t shoot a few strips right away.”

 

“Hmmm,” Jim reached for the lube and coated his cock, “No condoms.”

 

“Don’t fucking need them. We are both clean. Just do it.”

 

“Aha, the Nike guys probably invented their slogan in bed huh?”

 

At any other time Sherlock would have started laughing but he was so overwhelmed and overawed with a need to find release that the humor in those words was completely lost on him. Instead of laughing he found himself mumbling, “I’ve only had hand jobs and rutting so far. I really want to cum with a dick up my behind, just do it Jimmy, put your cock in me and fuck me open.”

 

“Keep talking like that and I might not even make it inside,” Jim panted, “How did you manage to get me so close for a second time without even fucking me or letting me fuck you?”

 

“That’s why I’m letting you fuck me,” Sherlock groaned, shuddering when he felt the tip of Jim’s cock press against his slippery opening.

 

As Sherlock had half and half expected, the moment Jim pushed inside him he came instantly with a howl of ‘Jimmmyyy’! Semen splattered all over his stomach and chest and he shuddered so hard, so violently that he pushed Jim out accidentally. Jim yelped and grabbed the base of his own cock, thrusting it back inside the spasming channel, a look of sheer bliss on his face. Sherlock on the other hand was drooling from a corner of his lip and jerking spasmodically as if he was in the midst of a seizure. His orgasm seemed to go on and on and he felt so Goddamned good that his life flashed before his eyes. He was sure that if a gun was pressed to his temple at this point he’d happily ask his killer to pull the trigger.

 

“Oh Sherrrrrlock,” Jim drawled, cumming inside Sherlock in thick spurts before collapsing on top of him bonelessly.

 

Sherlock was still half out of his senses but he still managed to wrap his arms tightly around Jim and hold him there. The more the aftershocks settled in, the more overawed he felt. He was giddy from happiness and reeling from a sense of achievement, a feeling that usually accompanied life-altering sex with someone. Finally, _finally_ he had had proper sex. He had been fucked by a man _. So this was how it felt when someone made love to you, this was how one reached orgasm without even a touch to their cock_.

 

“Ohhh,” he let out a blissful exhale and kissed Jim’s shoulder.

 

“Oh,” Jim went.

 

“Mmmm,” Sherlock nuzzled his neck.

 

“Mmmm,” Jim repeated.

 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and a crooked grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. “That was so awesome,” he whispered.

 

“That was so awesome,” Jim repeated, copying Sherlock’s husky voice and sexy tone.

 

“Sherlock is so handsome.”

 

“Sherlock is so ha…..you twat!”

 

“What? Telling the truth is being a twat? Don’t you find me handsome Jimmy?”

 

“Yeah, I mean yes, but you’re bragging.”

 

“I am not bragging. If I had to brag I’d say I have the sexiest lover in history.”

 

“Liar,” Jim giggled and kissed Sherlock’s neck, then his chin and finally the tip of his nose. Sherlock felt a strange sensation spread through his chest and slowly start to reach all the way up to his brains and all the way down to his toes. It filled him with a sense of wellbeing, he felt fifty pounds lighter somehow and a grin broke through his normally staid features, lighting up his handsome face in a million joyous hues. So this was how it felt to be in love, to be in the arms of a beloved, to be held and caressed and adored. And he had been an idiot so far to think he could do without this for an entire lifetime??? How silly!

 

Jim was falling asleep in his arms so Sherlock rolled them over and made them lie on their sides, face to face, noses only inches apart. He looked at Jim’s reposed face adoringly, that grin still playing around the corner of his lips.

 

“Dinner?” He asked.

 

“Nah,” Jim mumbled, reaching out and holding Sherlock’s hand.

 

“Good night then,” Sherlock said, bringing their joined hands up and kissing Jim’s fingers.

 

“Night….” Jim was barely audible as he sank deeper into the pillow and mattress and drifted off.

 

***

 

“Boss,” Anthea, Mycroft’s secretary, walked into his cabin and looked for him all around, “Boss where are you?”

 

“Here, by the window,” Mycroft replied from the far corner of the cabin.

 

He was standing there sipping his tea and smiling at the beautiful sights before him. He had no idea how long he had been standing there and why he found the sight of the London skyline, the Thames in the distance, the crawling traffic many floors below or the miniature figures of Londoners scurrying about so endearing. He was used to these sights and had been looking at them for years. Still, things seemed very different nowadays and small little experiences gave him far greater happiness than they used to before.

 

For example, buying a new car.

 

“They just delivered a brand-new Aston Martin,” Anthea said, “You never told me you had ordered one. If you had told me so I could have arranged a discount, or got you a three nights holiday package to the Cotswold.”

 

She knew very well that, despite his enormous wealth and net worth, Mycroft was careful with money and would never pass up on a discount or a freebie. Also, every big purchase was preceded by weeks, if not months, of research and deliberation and searching for the best deal possible. This time it seemed to be an impulse purchase, which was very uncharacteristic of the cautious and circumspect Mycroft Holmes.

 

“I just liked it very much and bought it,” Mycroft was too much in his happy head space to notice what he was saying, “For him.”

 

Anthea was a bit taken aback but she assumed immediately that this ‘him’ had to be either Reginald Holmes, Mycroft’s dad, or Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft’s kid brother. It seemed unlikely that the family would purchase such pricey gifts for each other because she had been on an occasional Christmas party at the Holmes mansion and observed what sort of presents they exchanged. The family was relatively frugal for people of their net worth, which was a hopping seven hundred and fifty million pounds. Though richer than the queen, they always gave meaningful gifts to each other rather than yachts and private jets and luxury automobiles.

 

“For your father sir?”

 

“No.”

 

“Brother?”

 

“No this is for James.”

 

That was when Mycroft understood that he had just let the cat out of the bag. He quickly walked back to his desk with long determined strides and said, “It is sort of a joining bonus for him. Usually we do give our employees a joining bonus but James is a consultant and he isn’t entitled to this benefit. Nonetheless, considering that he is a family friend and a key contributor to the organization, I bought this for him.”

 

He neglected to mention that when he had gone to pick up Jim’s car, a Jaguar S type, he had noticed the Aston Martin limited edition in the next showroom and cancelled the Jaguar deal. That Blue Aston was just what James needed. Bam, his decision had been made.

 

“That’s very generous of you sir,” Anthea mentioned.

 

“I am only being a caring employer,” Mycroft didn’t like her gaze. It was a scrutinizing gaze which openly told him ‘I don’t really believe you’. “What did you come in here for?” He asked tersely, “Is it some work or call you wanted to remind me about?”

 

“You sent an approval email for Ralph, to get his pending bills cleared, but in the body of the email you mentioned ‘James’ instead of Ralph. You’ll need to resend that email please.”

 

Mycroft startled. How did he make such a stupid careless mistake? “Yes of course,” he said and added by means of explanation, “I was on a conference call with James during that time, hence I made that mistake. I’ll correct the error and re-send the email. Assure Ralph it will be done immediately and his bills will be cleared by the end of this week.”

 

“Yes of course, I’ll call him and let him know that right away,” Anthea replied politely and walked out of the elegant cabin, frowning and wondering why her authoritarian and somewhat arrogant boss had started offering explanations to his executive assistant. He never ever did that. Something was changing about Mycroft Holmes and she could see it as clear as the daylight outside.

 

***

 

“I give, no more, please, I can’t even breathe,” Sherlock said between hard pants as he fell on top of Jim and snuggled into him, not bothering about whether his weight was crushing the smaller man or not. Jim was a tough cookie and kept giggling and moaning underneath, digging his heels into Sherlock’s butt and insisting that he went on fucking him for a bit longer. “Seriously Jimmy,” Sherlock gave a slightly pained wail, “It’s over-sensitive right now. It kinda hurts. You have to give me an hour at least.”

 

“How many times did we go at it?” Jim giggled again, wriggling his hips.

 

“Four rounds, in under two hours,” Sherlock let out a whine as he softened and slipped out of his lover. Jim let out a soft exhale and then a little cry of disappointment, rubbing his half-hard member insistently on Sherlock’s taut abs. “Believe me babe,” Sherlock rolled over to lie on his back and gathered Jim in his arms, “I would like to do this all night but I do need a break for now. I can’t believe how you’re still able to do it though, you came more than I did. How many times? Six?”

 

“Seven,” Jim snickered, “I could do eight and nine.”

 

“This is biologically impossible.”

 

“And what about chemistry?”

 

“Chemistry? In this case it is….”

 

“Oh God, I can’t believe you sometimes, you simpleton! I mean the chemistry between a couple. You and I, in this case.”

 

“Oh that we have loads. Wait, did you say we are a couple?”

 

Jim reached for Sherlock’s cigarettes. He usually didn’t smoke but after marathon shags like this he didn’t mind taking a few drags from Sherlock’s cigarette. “Look, it all depends on how you define couplehood,” the Irishman lit up and took three drags before passing it to his lover, “We are not married or engaged so we aren’t a married couple. We are not exactly live-ins or civil partners so we aren’t a romantic couple or a cohabiting couple. But we are…..”

 

“Fucking,” Sherlock completed it for him, “So we are a couple that’s sexually involved?”

 

“I’d say colleagues and friends with benefits and no strings attached,” Jim said as he playfully licked at Sherlock’s chest and threw a leg over him. They lay like that in silence for a long time, savoring the afterglow and the lazy day they had been sharing so far. It was their first weekend in Dubai and after all the hard work at the Abu Dhabi site, all those meetings with the clients and suppliers, it was a well-deserved lazy Saturday when they wanted nothing more than each other, a dial-in pizza and some beer and wine. Dusk was beginning to settle in outside and they hadn’t even left the bed yet.

 

“Waking up at noon, lying in bed till six pm, what’re we doing huh?” Sherlock snickered.

 

“Just being two lazy horny idiots,” Jim chimed in.

 

“Is it illegal to actually enjoy this?” Sherlock took another drag and offered a last one to Jim.

 

“I say it’s illegal not to do this once in a while,” Jim replied, taking that last drag and tossing the cigarette into the ashtray, “Say, what should we do tomorrow?”

 

“I was thinking something in the desert…..I mean if you’re okay with that too.”

 

“I am incredibly okay. What’s the plan?”

 

“Quad biking. Then maybe a camel ride. Take lots of pictures.”

 

“Brilliant idea Sherly!”

 

Sherlock was about to say something when a strange sensation swept up from his groin. Jim had inserted three fingers into his well-used hole and started to suck on his cock. “H-How?” He gasped, wondering when Jim had managed to crawl downwards and start this when he was in Sherlock’s arms just a moment ago. But his body was beginning to respond, barely twenty minutes since their last round.

 

Incredible!

 

“Ohhh,” he went, feeling his flesh harden under the onslaught of that talented mouth, “Oh fuck Jimmy oh!”

 

Jim merely chuckled around his mouthful and used his middle finger to repeatedly strike Sherlock’s prostate. The green eyed man was soon in a different world, a melee of colors and sounds mingling together in his head, his body ramrod stiff with anticipated release, his sweat damp curls falling all over his face as he sank deeper and deeper into the well of sensations Jim was slowly pushing him into.

 

“Uhhnnnn,” Sherlock bunched his fingers into fists and began to fuck Jim’s mouth desperately. Then he suddenly opened his eyes and said, “Turn around, I wanna suck you off too!”

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jim gave a triumphant laughter and turned around, so his stiff and leaking cock was right next to Sherlock’s eager and moist mouth. The Englishman grabbed the slender hips and swallowed more than half of his lover’s impressive erection, rubbing two fingers insistently against Jim’s slippery opening (which he had made full use of earlier). The jerk that ran through Jim’s body matched his own for completion and together they began to scale the heights of a mammoth orgasm, an orgasm that Sherlock had earlier felt he wasn’t even capable of.

 

Not immediately at least!

 

Jim kept moaning around his mouthful while Sherlock kept panting around his, adding an extra layer of sensations to the already hot fellatio. Soon both men were shaking with the need to cum, their cocks throbbing in each other’s mouths. It was even better to be pleasured while they were pleasuring the other, the twin sensations were almost overwhelming and neither man could stop the joint orgasm that came thundering towards them.

 

Their hips jerked hard as they came, spilling into each other’s tongue. Drained, limp and spent, they just lay there for ten minutes, trying to breathe in and out. Their hearts beat so loud the noise literally drummed into their ears. “Sherl….” Jim mumbled after a while.

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“I feel giddy.”

 

“M’dizzy too.”

 

“But m’hungry.”

 

Sherlock sat up with some effort, “Okay spoilt brat. I will order in some pizza. But you’ll go and get it when it arrives.”

 

“Can I go like this?” Jim grinned and winked, still lying on the bed the wrong way.

 

“NO,” Sherlock said possessively, “Nobody sees you like this but me. I’ll go if I have to.” He was also disturbed by his reaction. Since when had he started getting possessive about someone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JimLock burns up the sheets but JimCroft is still on *wink*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim joins Mycroft in London after a whirlwind romance with Sherlock in Dubai

Mycroft stared at the selfies Jim had sent him through WhatsApp.

 

Jim and Sherlock on the beach, sitting on camels, a video of them quad biking, another video of them sliding down the longest and highest waterslide in the world at Atlantis water park, photographs of them on a boat and on an islet, white sandy beaches around them.

 

They looked happy and whereas Mycroft was glad to see some color on Sherlock’s skin and the look of pure happiness on his face, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of resentment and jealousy that it was not him but Sherlock who was enjoying the sunny company of James Moriarty. But then this was supposed to happen, Jim and Sherlock were supposed to be in Dubai for the initial stint of the project and naturally they’d do something during their off-work hours as well. He didn’t have any rights to feel annoyed or resentful of that. Had he been there he would have done similar things too.

 

Would he?

 

Didn’t he always think lazing on the beach and getting too much sun was inviting skin cancer. Didn’t he always say theme parks were for children and teenagers, not adults? Didn’t he always believe that riding camels would only result in a catch on the lower back?

 

Then why and how was he hoping to do all of these activities with Jim, that too very willingly!

 

His eyes went to the rows of cars parked in their garage. There were two vintage cars, a Packard and a Flint, both produced in the 30’s. Then there was their grandfather’s Cadillac from the sixties, another classic car. Next to those were the modern-day automobiles, a stretch Mercedes Limousine, a Rolls Royce Phantom, a Mercedes Maybach, a Bentley, two Ferraris, a Lamborghini, a 1980’s McLaren in near flawless condition, a mustard yellow Maserati, two more luxury sedans and three SUV’s.

 

Amidst them stood the Aston Martin he planned to gift Jim.

 

“Myc?”

 

“Oh mum, hi.”

 

“I just heard from Jim. He will be here next week.”

 

Mycroft’s eyes lit up, “Next week?” Suddenly the world seemed to be a brighter, nicer, happier place and bluebirds sang in his ears.

 

“Yeah,” Eugenia said, “It’s been nearly two months right?”

 

 _One month, twenty days, sixteen hours to be precise_. “Yes mum, nearly two months,” Mycroft said, “Sherlock has to stay back though. He needs to be there to ensure things go smoothly in Jim’s absence. But he should be back too, in about a month or so.”

 

“Oh I am not worried about Sherlock,” Eugenia replied, “That boy loves travelling and is probably already planning on watching a cricket match at Sharjah or taking a quick trip to Bahrain to watch a formula 1 race.”

 

Mycroft watched her as she carefully stepped into the only car she drove on her own, the BMW 7 series. On an impulse he quickly strode forward and said, “How about I drive you to Mrs. Armstrong’s house mummy? I know Paul is driving dad around today and Jake is on vacation and unavailable but I have time, I can drop you there and pick you up in a few hours.” His mother was pleasantly surprised and it showed on her face. Mycroft was the last person who’d do something like this. He was withdrawn, taciturn and self-absorbed or work-absorbed for most of the time. But she couldn’t deny she felt rather glad for this offer because she never enjoyed driving a car in the London traffic.

 

“Yes, that would be nice, yes,” she replied.

 

Later, while they were on their way, Mycroft cleared his throat and asked, “Mummy, may I ask you something?”

 

“Yes of course Myc. Go on. Just don’t ask me for business advice. I have no head for that.”

 

“Did you and dad have an arranged alliance or a love marriage?”

 

“Huh? That’s not what I expected.”

 

“But would you answer it?”

 

“Yes, why not? Well, I call it a love marriage because….even though we were set up by our respective parents who were keen on seeing us married, we developed an instant crush on each other. I liked how driven, how confident, how caring he was as a person. I knew he’d be a good husband and father. Similarly, he liked my views on life, he felt I was a very strong person and I would be a great addition to his life. Once we married, the love grew and the bond strengthened.”

 

“But it’s not easy to define what falling in love is, right?”

 

“Not everything needs to be defined son,” she said with a curious look at him, “Some things just need to be felt.”

 

“How does it feel then?”

 

“Myc,” she responded with a knowing smile, “Please tell me you have been feeling something. Or are you going to say ‘I am asking for a friend’?”

 

Mycroft gave one of his rare chuckles and said, “I am asking for a friend.”

 

***

 

“I was not really a virgin, not in the literal sense of the word,” Sherlock murmured as he lay on his back with Jim lying at a perpendicular angle from him, his head on Sherlock’s stomach, “I had my first sexual experience at the age of fourteen. It was with someone I looked up to, someone I admired and feared in equal proportions. As the years passed, we continued our secret trysts. But I am not sure it was ever love. Or a real relationship. It was very vanilla. Just using our hands and skin and thighs, that’s about it.”

 

He didn’t reveal it was incest, it was sibling love, it was his elder brother. He felt it would be a great betrayal to Mycroft if he let Jim into their secret.

 

Fortunately, Jim didn’t ask for the identity. “My first experience was with….you won’t believe it, a woman. Yeah, I was thirteen and she was fourteen. Quite a slut already, if you ask me. Till sixteen I kept doing women till I had my first experience with a man about twice my age. I didn’t enjoy it at all but I got curious about my sexual orientation. Somehow I seemed programmed to enjoy intimacy with men rather than women. After that I slept with a woman only once, at twenty-one, that too because she was too insistent.”

 

“So, many lovers then?” Sherlock asked in a tight voice.

 

“Many sexual partners,” Jim admitted, “Lovers….not sure. I have never really allowed myself to have feelings for somebody just because I put my cock in them or the other way around.”

 

“Were they all good?”

 

“Most of them?”

 

“Who was the best?”

 

Jim looked up and playfully bit into Sherlock’s chest, “Willie Sherly Scotty Holmes,” he sang, “You are jealous?”

“Am not,” Sherlock shot back, “Not by a mile.”

 

“Are too,” Jim giggled and wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s chest, “But while that is very cute it’s not something I’d advise you to indulge. The less possessive and detached we are, the better off we’d be. Attachment, caring, love, these are very big disadvantages. Many a man could have risen to greatness had he not taken on a nagging wife and produced four kids who would need his time so much and so often that he eventually ends up devaluing his talent. His time is spent doing mundane family things rather than the stuff geniuses attend to.”

 

Sherlock snorted, “That means you don’t believe in commitment, or marriage, or kids.”

 

Jim sighed and sat up, crawling closer and pulling Sherlock’s head on to his lap. He kept stroking the Englishman’s hairs as he spoke in a voice far more serious than Sherlock had ever heard him use. “Listen Sherlock, I have seen my parents and how their marriage broke up. My mum is still alive and lives in Canada, with a French-Canadian professor. I haven’t seen her in over ten years. My dad was never the same person since he divorced. He sent me and my elder brother away, he hardly ever did things as a family with us, all he was interested in was his whiskey, his card games at the club, his work and his retro movies. I would rather not build a family and then destroy it. That’s cruel.”

 

“Not letting yourself have a good life, a relationship, simply because your parents were a certain type,” Sherlock argued, “That’s cruel.”

 

“No,” Jim said, “That’s being forewarned and forearmed.”

 

Sherlock turned his head and kissed Jim’s naked thigh, “You are gorgeous, ravishing. Has anyone told you that?”

 

“Yes, many have said so.”

 

“Did they also tell you that looks don’t happen to be in your top 10 qualities.”

 

“Mmmm nope.”

 

“Jimmy I…..”

 

“What is it Sherly?”

 

Sherlock felt like telling Jim exactly what he was thinking. _Jim I am falling for you, I think this is love, or whatever it is it just makes me very happy, I don’t wanna let you go, please don’t even look at anyone else after this, after what we shared_. But that feeling came and went and Sherlock berated himself for jumping the gun and making a premature statement. They had known each other for a little over two months. This needed more time. This had to wait for a better time.

 

“Sherly what is it?”

 

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

 

“Yes I am, so?”

 

“I will miss you a lot.”

 

Jim bent slightly and kissed Sherlock’s forehead, “Yes I know I am. But it’s only for a month Sherl. I will be back after that and here is where I am gonna stay till the project is over. You can come down and see me a anytime, just as I can fly over and spend time with you. Don’t worry.”

 

Sherlock sat up and pulled Jim closer, caressing the side of his face and then pulling him into a bear hug. He had never been the touchy-feely man. Aside from Mycroft he had never allowed anyone to get too close to him, or too intimate. It always felt weird and repulsive. But with Jim an embrace, a kiss, a touch came so naturally to him that he felt as if a new ‘Sherlock’ had been born. A happier Sherlock, a more easygoing and carefree Sherlock, a Sherlock who was less of a stick in the mud and more of a stud. “Promise me you will call me every day and we will also see each other over Skype,” he asked, holding Jim’s face in his hands.

 

Jim slowly and gently extricated his face from Sherlock’s loving grasp, a disturbed look in his dark eyes. Trying to keep his voice normal he said, “Can’t promise, but will surely try.”

 

Later, as Sherlock went to fill the tub so they could soak in it together, Jim looked at his hands and whispered, “No, don’t let me succeed here, just this time, no please no!”

 

***

 

Mycroft could barely conceal his excitement as he waited at the Gatwick airport for Jim. He had been insistent on sending the private jet they owned but Jim had already made arrangements for himself on board a commercial airline and told Mycroft categorically he’d be fine.

 

After what seemed like a really long wait, but which in reality was not more than ten minutes, he saw Jim emerge along with other passengers. He was pushing a luggage trolley with too many bags on it and grinning from ear to ear.

 

Mycroft raised a long arm to indicate his presence and when their eyes met, the elder Holmes saw a look of genuine happiness there. Jim was pleased to see him, well that surely made his day! Mycroft rather rudely pushed people out of their way, ignored their angry looks and rushed up to Jim who left the trolley aside and jumped into Mycroft’s arms. “Mmmm, I like it this way,” he said, raising his face and offering that near-angelic smile, his orbs looking amber with the sunlight playing on them, “Disappearing in someone’s embrace. You’re really tall Mr. Holmes, are you not?”

 

“Six feet three inches,” Mycroft replied, resisting the urge to kiss the dark hairs, “So happy to see you James.”

 

“But you didn’t have to pick me up,” Jim said as Mycroft began to push the trolley.

 

“I had to. We both had to.”

 

“Both? Who else is here with you?”

 

Mycroft didn’t say anything. He only offered a mysterious smile and grabbed Jim’s hand, dragging him out of the airport in a friendly, playful manner while he continued to effortlessly push the luggage cart with his free hand. Jim kept pestering him for details but the older man resisted and kept blocking out his requests till they came to the car park and the beautiful azure blue Aston Martin was pointed out to. “Here we go,” Mycroft said in a stately tone, “This accompanied me to the airport today because it was so desperate to meet its new owner. Meet Mr. Aston Martin, a humble gift to you from me.”

 

Jim stood there, so silent and still, that for a second Mycroft thought this had been a very bad idea. Though nowhere as rich as the Holmes family were, Jim’s family was not destitute or even middle class. They were also millionaires and Jim himself had a steady and fat pay cheque. Did he take this as some sort of giveaway, a gesture of charity or some kind of bait to extract some favors from him? _Oh shit, that was not the intention_. Mycroft shifted weight from foot to foot and waited.

 

Suddenly Jim approached the car and touched it.

 

The next moment he whooped loudly with joy and jumped on to Mycroft with a series of ‘thank you’ and ‘this is beautiful’ and ‘she is great’. Mycroft’s heart gladdened and a warm feeling spread in his chest as he grabbed Jim who was clinging to him with arms and legs like a monkey.

 

Suddenly they heard giggles and chuckles. “What the….” Mycroft frowned.

 

Four teenagers were laughing and gesticulating at them as they passed by. Mycroft wanted to wring their necks and cuff them behind their ears for their rudeness. He hated such folks and their parents, people who didn’t bring up their kids to respect others and not make snide remarks at them. Nonetheless, he put Jim’s feet back on the ground and stepped back.

 

“Never mind,” Jim got into the car, “Let them laugh. Keys please. Can I drive?”

 

“Yes of course you can, this is your car now,” Mycroft tossed the keys towards him.

 

“Come on Mr. Holmes,” Jim said cheerfully, “Don’t be such grumpy pants. Come on, you got me this car. It’s time for me to give you a gift too. It’s in the bag but right now I can give you something else…..”

 

Mycroft got into the car and said, “What is it?”

 

“This is it,” Jim leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, leaving Mycroft grinning like a loony toon, “For now.”

 

***

 

“This is beautiful,” Eugenia Holmes looked at the beautiful Basra pearl necklace and earrings Jim had brought for her, “So elegant and pretty, light pink color, these are so rare. Really James, you shouldn’t have spent so much. I am sure you’d end up spending nearly a million on remodeling and decorating your dad’s house.”

 

“1.5 million,” Jim corrected her, “But, the property itself is worth nearly five. I’m not broke.”

 

“I know you aren’t and you never will be son, you’re too talented for that,” Reginald Holmes admired the beautiful Arabian dagger Jim had brought for him, with an ivory handle and silver blade, his initials carved in gold letters on the grip of the handle. “I am not going to ask you to stop bringing such gifts,” the old man said with a twinkle in his eyes, “This is a collector’s item and I frankly admit that I would have never looked for something like this because the very idea of possessing such a beautiful dagger didn’t ever occur to me. I am more of a gun and coins collector, but this dagger, boy oh boy, it is now one of the most gorgeous items I own.”

 

“You’re exaggerating uncle Reggie,” Jim said shyly.

 

“Not at all. So, how is work there?”

 

“Great. That day Sherl and I were…..”

 

Mycroft’s attention was slowly diverted towards the way Jim’s lips moved as he spoke. He no longer heard the words that were spoken. As the seconds ticked by he heard a different voice though, an annoyed female voice. “Myc? Hey Myc? Mycroft Holmes, I am talking to you.”

 

“Huh? Mummy!”

 

Eugenia looked at him, puzzled, “I was asking, how long will he be staying with us? I have to say this, the boy has fantastic taste in gifts and knows exactly what each person wants. I feel a bit bad you know, we should have been in touch with his family and asked him to come home a long time ago. He lost his dad, his mum had never been in touch with him, his brother left for Ireland, he was all alone.”

 

“Here for a month,” Mycroft already dreaded the day they’d have to say their goodbyes again, “Then I plan to take him to New Mexico to survey the project and spot any loopholes.”

 

“Oh I see,” she said, “I wish he’s here more often. What a nice boy.”

 

Mycroft looked at the 1000 pound box set of expensive cognac and the solid gold plated bespoke lighter Jim had brought for him. Still, the best gift according to Mycroft was that kiss on the cheek. He couldn’t wait to kiss Jim back, perhaps on the lips.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is real - Mycroft's James or Sherlock's Jim

Sherlock huffed out an annoyed breath. Jim was not online.

 

“Damn it,” he mumbled, trying to see if anyone else was online and he could check with them about Jim. But unfortunately neither his mum and dad nor his elder brother were online on Skype and he was left muttering with frustration.

 

Suddenly someone pinged him and he saw Victor Trevor’s name pop up. For a moment he dreaded the idea of talking to his best buddy from college days for fear of being rebuked. He agreed that he deserved the rebuke too, for being a prized arse hole and completely forgetting his friends once he had met Jim. After all he had not even texted Victor since landing at Dubai, hadn’t replied to any of the jokes or videos his friend had sent on WhatsApp, he hadn’t even met him before he left London. Of course, the man had something to be annoyed about. Still, Sherlock felt like talking to someone and didn’t want to pass up on this opportunity.

 

He put on his headphones and called Victor.

 

“Hey,” Victor’s video was a bit blurry, “You’re alive. That’s nice.”

 

“I am sorry, that’s all I can say,” Sherlock said quickly.

 

“No you’re not. You never are.”

 

“Vic, please, not in the mood to fight. I’ve just been very busy with the Dubai project, that’s all.”

 

“Yeah, your mum told me about that. Can you believe it man, I had shown up at your Swan Street flat, found it locked and then texted you, to which you didn’t bother to respond! Then I went to your parents’ house, where you spend three weeks a month, and Mrs. Holmes was kind enough to let me know that you’ve been out of the country for more than three weeks.”

 

“I have always been a horrid friend Vic,” Sherlock said with genuine regret, “But you know me too well to think I’ll change. This might happen again.”

 

“Ah forget it, I know you won’t change and you know I’ll always forgive you. Anyways, I didn’t ping you to fight with you. How have you been?”

 

“Pretty good.”

 

“Then why don’t you look and sound so?”

 

Sherlock scratched his scalp, “Nah, just being lazy. Didn’t shave, have been working too hard so sleep is a bit of a rare thing. That’s all. Nothing else.” _And the fact that I miss Jim so terribly I can’t smile even if I wish to._

 

“Oh man, never seen you so down and out. Not until that bout of pneumonia you had nearly nine years ago, remember?” Victor made a face and winked, “I had to smuggle grape popsicles to you while you were recovering and I remember sneaking in a few adult magazines as well. The moment you got better you went off for a short vacation to Portugal and forgot to tell me about it.”

 

Sherlock moved closer to the screen, ignored the comment and whispered. “Vic, listen….um….I wanted to ask…...Tell me something. Have you ever been in love?”

 

Victor felt his heart leap in his chest. Did Sherlock just really say that? Did he? Well, whatever it was, it sure was a nice and promising start. So far Sherlock had just been a bundle of sarcasm, quirks, sharp wits, work, work and more work. Romance, dating, sex, nothing seemed to interest him. And suddenly the same man was talking about love? What a dramatic and exciting change. “Yes I have been in love, in fact I might still be in love,” he declared, scrutinizing Sherlock’s face for any telling signs, “But why do you ask? You don’t even know how to spell love, do you?”

 

“I may not know how to spell it, doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

 

Victor narrowed his eyes, “Since when?”

 

“Around the time we last met.”

 

Sherlock meant the point in time when he had come across Jim for the first time, about two months and a week ago. What didn’t register in his head was that a day before he had met Jim, he was having lunch with Victor. Naturally his college mate took it in a different way. Eyes shining, he asked, “That is a new thing. Usually you forget whoever you met a couple of months ago. I wasn’t forgotten all these days, after all.”

 

“No,” Sherlock was taken aback, “Why would I forget you?”

 

“I miss you Lock.”

 

“I miss you too Vic. I wish you were here.”

 

“I could fly down.”

 

“No, no, don’t. I will be there in a few weeks anyways. We’ll spend time together. I know how much you hate long distance flights. Don’t do that for me, I’d never want to put you through any trouble.”

 

Victor felt warm and fuzzy and very glad. “Seriously Lock, you just made me very hap…..”

 

“Tell me, how does it feel like when you’re in love. How can you be sure it’s really love and not infatuation or a simple crush that comes and goes?”

 

Victor didn’t mind being interrupted. With every question Sherlock asked, he was getting more and more convinced it was ‘he’ whom Sherlock was talking about. His friend was inexperienced in these matters; hence he had invented this peculiar way to gauge Victor’s feelings.

 

“I’d say the main difference between a short-lived infatuation and proper, true love is whether you wish to be happy or you wish for the other person to be happy. Usually when feelings are shallow, selfish or just skimming the surface of love, they tend to be all about you. Like ‘I would be happy to go on a holiday with him’ or ‘Everyone wants my partner but I am the lucky guy who’s holding his hand’. But when your feelings run deep that person becomes the center of your universe. For example, you’d wonder if they are okay, if they are happy, if you’re doing enough for them, looking after them properly or not. If they laugh, you laugh too. If they’re worried, you’d be tense. If they’re sad, you’d feel crushed. If they don’t call you, you’d still go looking for them just to ensure they’re doing fine.”

 

Sherlock missed the huge hint his friend had dropped. He unwittingly replied, “Like you wanna shop for a ring for them?”

 

Victor looked like he had swallowed a frog. “R-Ring?”

 

“Yeah. That’s what people do when they make up their minds.”

 

“But before they do so, they do other things Sherlock.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Roses, champagne, moonlit beach walks, dinner at a Michelin star restaurant, a couple’s day at the spa, sometimes boys go kayaking or dirt biking together and fuck each other raw on a soft blanket, underneath the chestnut tree.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes went wide.

 

Victor began to laugh, “Just kidding man. Yeah, some of those things would be fine. Boning would be an option. If your man likes it too, otherwise it might just ruin the mood and make you seem like a predator. The trick is to make him feel like a prince.”

 

Unknown to each other both men were thinking completely opposite thoughts. Victor was sure he was the one Sherlock had finally chosen while Sherlock was trying to gauge exactly how much of whatever Victor had just mentioned would actually apply to Jim. While Victor hoped their relationship was finally consummated, Sherlock felt a bit wary of initiating anything sexual with Jim until and unless he had done something romantic, something adorable, something that made Jim feel like a prince.

 

“I’ll see you soon, in London,” Sherlock said distractedly, “Bye now.”

 

Because he was in seventh heaven, Victor didn’t notice Sherlock’s distracted look or his hurried goodbye. He was already planning for the days ahead when Sherlock would be in London and how he’d propose to the man the moment they had their first kiss. “I’ll look forward to the day you’re here,” Victor said excitedly, “Call me as soon as you land, right from the airport, okay?”

 

***

 

Mycroft had no idea why he had reached such a stalemate situation. Three days and, more importantly, three nights had passed and he was no closer to Jim than he had been before. They worked well together, had nice laugh packed working lunches, texted a few times a day and still no progress beyond that occasional stolen glance or casual touch. Mycroft ached inside all the time, thirsting for nothing more than a proper hug from Jim or another peck from those soft, plump lips. But he wasn’t forward enough to initiate any form of intimacy and romance until and unless Jim gave him some hint, some clue of his intentions.

 

On the fourth night Mycroft was writing something in his diary, the only lights on in the room being a bedside lamp and a reading light at his table, when Jim unexpectedly walked into his room.

 

He looked attractive and adorably ruffled with bed hair, clad in a pair of light blue PJ’s and fluffy bath slippers on his feet. Mycroft had to bite down on his tongue to prevent himself from smiling too happily or reacting too enthusiastically. What if Jim was here only to borrow a book or to tell him something about the work schedule the next day? No point in being a fool and reading the signal through the wrong lenses. Keeping his voice steady and his expression completely neutral, he asked, “Hey James, what’s up? I thought you’d be asleep by now. Anything you need?”

 

“Um….can’t sleep.”

 

“You want me to give you something?”

“No, I’d rather not. No meds.”

 

“Then how about a cup of tea?”

 

“No, I was just…..”

 

Mycroft asked softly, “Anything you wanna ask for James. Anything at all.”

 

“Just don’t laugh at me, okay?” Jim looked ready to turn back and leave but hesitated just a little bit.

 

“Never,” Mycroft promised, “What is it that you wanna share?”

 

“Thunderstorms, there’s one coming up any moment,” Jim shuddered as lightning flashed through the skies and the room was lit up in its eerie blue color, “I just hate them, always have. I can’t sleep on such nights. Maybe, I think, yeah just give me the meds. Good idea for tonight.”

 

Mycroft felt both protectiveness and a concern for Jim’s wellbeing surge through him and before he knew it he had stepped closer to Jim and wrapped an arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “No, you don’t really need meds for this,” he said firmly, closing the bedroom door behind them, “You were right earlier. You don’t need to take any prescription or over-the-counter meds for this, or for anything similar to this. Lots of people have such small and harmless phobias and getting out of them isn’t too difficult. Now, before the thunderstorm strikes us and you feel more uneasy, let’s get into bed and maybe watch something on my tablet. How about an episode of Game of Thrones? Do you watch that show?”

 

Jim was clearly struggling to stay calm. Thunderclaps were beginning to get louder and louder.

 

“Y-Yes,” he said, “But there is one thing.”

 

“Sure, tell me,” Mycroft looked into those deep, dark eyes.

 

“These are iron pajamas,” Jim swallowed audibly.

 

Mycroft paused for a moment, confused at first, before he burst out laughing. “Ohhhh God, you can be so funny James,” he ruffled Jim’s hairs, “Of course, I am not going to force myself on to you. We are just going to watch a popular TV show and wait till the thunderstorm gets over. After that you can jolly well go to your bedroom and sleep for the rest of the night, in total peace. Is that okay?”

 

Jim nodded and then clung to Mycroft when a really loud thunderclap almost brought the skies down on them. Rain came down in buckets and the wind picked up. “OhGodOhGodOhGod,” Jim prayed audibly and stuck to Mycroft’s side who stiffly walked him to his bed and sat him down.

 

For the next hour they watched a nice and eventful episode of the Game of Thrones, sitting closeted together on the bed and covered by a single blanket. Jim was clearly getting more and more groggy because he nodded off a few times. The older man kept hearing the soft yawns from Jim and how the Irishman’s body kept going slack again his own. On a couple of occasions, he felt Jim’s cheek hit his shoulder before the young engineer perked up and sat straight again.

 

When Jim nodded off for the seventh time and didn’t seem to wake up, Mycroft very carefully turned out the lights, kept the tablet aside and pushed them both down to a lying position. “Sweet dreams James,” he whispered as he nosed the soft dark locks, “Don’t worry, I won’t let any storm touch even a hair on your head. You’ll always be safe with me, I promise.”

 

***

 

The morning after felt strange.

 

When Mycroft woke up, Jim was already awake but still in bed, nestled into his arms. “Hey,” Mycroft asked, pushing back a few tendrils of hairs from Jim’s face, “How are you feeling now James?”

 

Jim did not respond. He simply leaned in a bit and kissed Mycroft’s chin before getting out of bed. Taken aback, Mycroft reached out and grasped his wrist before the brunette could walk away any further. He kept the touch gentle and non-threatening, giving Jim enough time and scope to pull back if he wished to. But the younger man neither pulled his hand away nor grasped Mycroft’s hand back, choosing to just stand there like an inert doll. “Did I do something to offend you last night?” Mycroft asked, hoping the answer was a ‘no’, “Or this morning?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you sleep well?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, good morning then.”

 

“Morning. We’re getting late for work.”

 

And with that Jim walked away, finally taking his hand back. Mycroft simply sat there, confused and puzzled, and wondering if he had actually said or done something that might have upset Jim. For the first time in his life he wished he had more experience with romance, with tender gestures, with seduction. Sometimes he feared that someone far better than him would show up and whisk Jim away from right under his nose.

 

That night Jim came to his room again, this time insisting that they watch another episode of Game of Thrones together. Mycroft gladly allowed that to happen, wishing for another thunderstorm so Jim spent the night in his bed again.

 

As the episode neared its end, Jim began to get out of bed.

 

“Wait,” Mycroft said, desperation evident in his voice, “Don’t go.”

 

Jim looked at him, “But the episode is over.”

 

“You…..You can sleep here.”

 

“I can?”

 

Mycroft blinked, surprised by his own forwardness. “Yes, of course. You can sleep here.”

 

They stared at each other for the longest possible time, each man sizing up the other and trying to ascertain his motives. But the situation reached a deadlock after a while with both Mycroft and Jim giving up on the analysis and preparing themselves for the night instead. Mycroft turned out the light on his side of the bed and fluffed the pillows while Jim put the iPad away and kicked off his fluffy slippers. Then he took off the pajama tops, exposing his smooth and hairless chest and back before Mycroft’s astonished eyes. “Um….James,” the elder Holmes said, “You should leave that on.”

 

“Why?” Jim got into bed bare chested, “Does it bother you Mikey?”

 

“No, I am afraid I might bother you.”

 

“You’re not going to force yourself on me. You’re a gentleman and I am no little babe.”

 

“But tell me the truth, do you really want to do it?”

 

Mycroft wished he could take the words back but words were like arrows shot from a crossbow. No way could they be taken back or made to fly in a different direction. He watched, color rising to his cheeks, as Jim stared at him in half-amusement and half-coyness. Unable to sit still and take the palpable sexual tension any longer, Mycroft got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. Sometimes it was best to let the moment end by walking away from it.

 

He took longer in the bathroom than he usually did. Upon his return, he found Jim lying in his bed in only his pajama bottoms, drowsy and nearly asleep.

 

Mycroft got into bed and slid under the covers. At first he stayed on his side but slowly the scent of tangerines from Jim’s hairs and the waves of warmth from Jim’s skin made him inch closer towards the Irishman. By the time he had spooned Jim and wrapped an arm around him, he could hear the quiet rhythms of Jim’s breathing.

 

Despite his disappointment Mycroft was glad for what he had. He had Jim in his arms. He had Jim in his bed. He had a beautiful window to another world, a future world where he saw an older version of himself returning home to an older version of Jim, three kids and two dogs rushing to join them at the doorway. He saw them at the dinner table, he saw them at a family vacation, he saw them at a big, fat, Christmas family lunch at mummy’s house.

 

By the time Mycroft had snapped out of the daze of his dreams, he was smiling from ear to ear.

 

“Good Lord James,” he whispered to the sleeping man in his arms, “What on earth have you done to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow updates. Made a mistake of keeping too many WIP's at the same time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sherlock pines alone without Jim, Mycroft lures Jim into his bed and his life. Jim entertains both brothers, as usual.

Sherlock had spent a strange week without Jim.

 

At first he thought he was merely seeing things or imagining too much but as the days passed, he was pretty much sure Jim was around him. What else explained the fact that Sherlock saw him sitting on the couch next to him and clapping when Manchester United scored a goal. Sherlock was sure he had even heard the sound of those claps.

 

When he woke up he saw Jim next to him in bed, curled into a ball and asleep like he usually found him every morning. He saw Jim in the bathroom later, shaving and singing in Gaelic whilst wearing a tiny towel that threatened to fall down any moment. He saw Jim sitting in his car when he drove to work every day and during hot afternoons he spotted Jim instructing the foremen at the site while Sherlock observed from a distance. Yet Jim was not in Dubai, his rational mind told him that, his lover had returned to London for a few weeks for work as well as to oversee the renovation work in his ancestral property.

 

In the evenings, which seemed long and lonely without the warm and delightful company of his mate, Sherlock did everything a lovesick man would do. He listened to soggy romantic songs, sighed repeatedly as he looked at ‘missing you’ quotes on Google and looked at their photographs over and over again. At night he spoke to Jim over the phone or on Skype but somehow it never went on for too long.

 

“I’ll see you soon Sherly, now I gotta go, I’m tired,” was Jim’s standard response.

 

Sherlock relented, blew him a kiss and hung up. Despite his intelligence he failed to realize that it was he who was closer to bedtime, London behind a few hours behind Dubai time zone, and Jim was nowhere close to being tired. Like any man who had a huge crush on someone, he had stopped seeing any imperfections in Jim and didn’t think the man was even capable of lying or manipulating.

 

After those calls he felt lonelier and worse than before.

 

He often spent half the night dozing on the couch or curled up on the love-seat next to the balcony door and staring out at the Dubai night lights. During those moments he sometimes wished his life was as simple and uncomplicated as before. He would work, spend time on his chemistry experiments, read vociferously through a weekend and do crazy things like riding a motorcycle in the dark or do target practice till four in the morning.

 

Now all he did was work, reminisce and brood, work some more and miss someone the moment he stepped out of office. He remembered the words of his high-school English teacher.

 

‘ _Love is a cruel thing, the waves of happiness offering fleeting kisses to the long shorelines of sadness and longing’_.

 

***

 

On their fifth night together, nearly two weeks since Jim had returned to London from Dubai, Mycroft finally decided to take the bull by its horns. While he loved having Jim in his arms every night, he was tired of spending most of those nights achingly hard and restless and eventually jerking off in the bathroom at least two or three times. He had no idea how Jim managed to sleep through the night in such a situation, for him it was almost unbearable to go on like this.

 

So, that night, as they got into bed and he made his usual move of spooning the smaller man, the rather blunt statement came out of his mouth. “James, tell me something. Do I have to marry you in order to have sex with you?”

 

Jim turned in his arms so fast and looked at him with such incredulous disbelief that Mycroft felt all his blood rush to his face. _Shit-shit-shit, I shouldn’t have said those words, is it too late for an apology now, whatever I just said was appalling, what the hell is wrong with me_ – Mycroft was too busy berating himself for this gaffe to notice that Jim’s look of shock and surprise had melted into one of want, desire, acquiescence and happiness. Those dark hazel-brown eyes glittered like diamonds and before he knew what was going on, Mycroft found Jim’s lips lightly pressed on to his own.

 

The kiss deepened instantly.

 

Moans, pants, sighs and sharp intakes of breath were all one could hear as they kissed the hell out of each other. Mycroft felt like his loins were on fire while the rest of him had melted into something like a puddle. He had kissed women before and on a rare occasion or two, Sherlock.

 

If only he had known before what a real kiss felt like, a kiss like this, a kiss that almost felt as good as sex!

 

His hand impatiently grabbed at Jim’s pajama bottoms and pulled them off. His eyes froze like a deer caught in the headlights. He feasted his eyes on a naked, gorgeous Jim who squirmed under his gaze and flushed pink all over.

 

“You-You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

 

“You…..you know how to wait,” Jim whispered back.

 

“What?” Mycroft bent down and kissed Jim’s pubes, eliciting a moan from him. Gosh, he wanted to spend an hour down there, make him cum over and over again. But he hadn’t done this often, _what if he failed, what if he disappointed his James_.

 

“I held out,” Jim said, thrusting his hips up and Mycroft hovered over his stiffening cock, “Because I wanted to know if you also consider patience to be a virtue.”

 

“I do know that good things come to those who wait,” Mycroft whispered, nuzzling the downy mane around the now rock-hard erection, “I do understand that some things are worth the wait. I believe that if you give it the right time, what you deserve will always be yours.”

 

“Ohhhhh,” Jim moaned loudly and arched his back as Mycroft started to suck his cock. His legs parted and his head fell back, mouth wide open as more and more aroused noises came out.

 

At first Jim let go of all controls and surrendered to the older man completely. Mycroft savored that permission and lavished attention on Jim, kissing and laving and nipping on every bit of skin he could reach. Jim’s groaning responses were reward enough and he continued to put his heart and soul into pleasuring his young lover, his hands following every spot his mouth had caressed. Jim writhed hard, constantly pushing Mycroft’s head towards his desired destination. “Please,” he whispered, hips moving on their own as a drop of clear slick oozed out of the tip of his turgid erection.

 

“Please what?” Mycroft said, caressing the insides of Jim’s thighs.

 

“I want…..”

 

“Yes? What do you want?”

 

“S-Suck me off.”

 

Jim lifted his legs at the same time and Mycroft salivated at the sight of the twitching little hole. “You don’t want me inside you?” He asked casually, caressing Jim’s balls and slowly probing at the tiny entrance.

 

Jim gasped, “Y-Yes, but first please….suck me and then…..fuck me later! Make me cum three times at least….Mikey, once won’t make the cut tonight.”

 

Mycroft wasn’t used to such an explicit request. As those words left Jim’s mouth, Mycroft’s self-control flew out of the window. It was hot, obscenely hot to have Jim naked and spread out like this and voicing out his needs, and Mycroft could hardly wait to do exactly what his lover had just asked him to do. His only worry was whether he’d be able to outlast Jim, a man much younger than him and definitely more experienced.

 

Jim suddenly thrust up and the tip of his cock hit the corner of Mycroft’s mouth. With a sound close to an animal yowl Mycroft grabbed Jim’s hips and started to deep throat the younger man. Jim screeched like a wild animal and tried his best to move his hips, to fuck his mouth.

 

“Uhhnn-hnnn,” Mycroft went around his mouthful. No way was he allowing Jim to control this.

 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” Jim chanted, head thrashing about, arms flapping and flailing, toes curling and knees bending and curling up. He was close, Mycroft could see that, maybe just a few more bobbing movements of his head and he would……

 

“Mikeeeyyyy,” Jim screamed out and climaxed and almost instantly spurts of semen filled Mycroft’s mouth.

 

Mycroft swallowed convulsively at first, then with much relish. It occurred to him at the back of his mind that he had not even pondered over the act of letting a man cum in his mouth. Many gay men and straight women didn’t prefer this even if they were in bed with the love of their lives. Yet, for Mycroft it didn’t seem like a disagreeable thing to do. The way Jim sounded at climax was a big ego booster for him. The way he took his name, the way he lost controls, Mycroft lapped it all up. Furthermore, Jim tasted good. This tasted nice. He liked this! The first thing he wondered was why he hadn’t tried something like this before! The answer in his head was also instantaneous. _‘Because you didn’t find someone like James before’_.

 

Things came naturally to Mycroft after that and while he continued to kiss Jim’s mouth and mouth Jim’s neck, he didn’t hesitate to let his fingers caress the spent cock and dip beyond the taut balls till he reached Jim’s furled opening.

 

“May I?” He asked for permission, ever the gentleman.

 

Jim nodded.

 

Mycroft let go of Jim for long enough to fetch some lube and condoms. While Jim tore the packet of the condom with his teeth, Mycroft coated his fingers with the gel and used its slippery warmth to slowly breach Jim’s opening. Jim tensed for just a few initial moments before he relaxed and buried his head in Mycroft’s neck, rubbing his once again hardening cock against the older man’s stomach and hip. He looked and sounded like a purring kitten that wanted attention, wanted love, wanted to own and possess him.

 

Mycroft loved that. He realized he’d do anything to own and possess Jim and be similarly owned by the Irishman.

 

Once Jim was ready, he suddenly pushed Mycroft down on his back and straddled him. His expression was cheeky, his smile naughty, his eyes had a wicked glint in them.

 

“What if I cock block you now?” Jim asked, rubbing their cocks together and producing delicious and constant friction.

 

“Oh fuck,” Mycroft grabbed the base of his cock and lifted Jim slightly to nudge his opening against it. “No way,” the older Holmes breathed, “You want me inside too. Admit it.”

 

“Do it without?” Jim asked.

 

Mycroft was tempted but held out. “No James, not before I produce a certificate of being ‘clean’ to you. I know I am but I want to be sure, for your sake.”

 

He rolled on a condom and slowly guided his erection into the toasty heat of Jim’s incredibly tight arse.

 

***

 

“Ah-ah-ah-Mikey-fuck here it comes-uhnnnnnn,” Jim cried out as his seed jettisoned out and splashed all over Mycroft. The older man watched the beautiful spectacle of his lover coming apart on top of him and felt an instantaneous orgasm build in his loins. Before he knew it, he thrust up hard into a still spasming Jim and came harder than he ever had. He saw stars and sparks and then a red haze before his eyes as he emptied himself inside his lover. The erotic sensation of Jim coming all over him was way too much to handle and even though he tried his best, he couldn’t stop his consciousness from fading away.

 

When he came to, he found Jim lying on top of him and his still hard cock lodged in that tight and slippery arse. He gently caressed Jim’s back and kissed the side of his face before calling out softly, “James. James are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

 

A few more calls and finally Jim lifted his head and blinked, opening his eyes with much effort. He let out a long deep sigh, kissed Mycroft’s lips and looked around, trying to make sense of the situation. When it all came back to him he wriggled his arse and then moaned, a twinkle returning to his dark orbs as he gazed at his older lover with a knowing smile. “No you didn’t hurt me,” he whispered, licking a hot strip down Mycroft’s jawline, “If you did hurt me a bit then it was a good kind of hurt. I enjoyed it, did you?” He waited for Mycroft to nod vigorously before he started to grind against Mycroft once more, “In that case I am still hard and so are you Mikey!”

 

“You’re insatiable,” Mycroft smiled. He patted Jim’s rump and tugged at his earlobe with his teeth, encouraging the intimacy. He was by no means complaining.

 

“I have a feeling you’d like me for it.”

 

“Yeah, I do. But you seem tired.”

 

“I am. I don’t want to do all the work this time.”

 

“In that case, allow me please.”

 

“Mmmm, fuck me nice and long and slow.”

 

Mycroft rolled them over so he was lying on top of Jim. A gentle, reassuring missionary position which was perhaps what they both really needed at that point. Mycroft rolled his hips and Jim moaned out with pleasure once again.

 

“Nice and long and slow,” Mycroft repeated, cradling Jim’s smaller frame in his arms.

 

This time they went at it for nearly half an hour. Gentle strokes, slow cadence, no change in pace, just steady and intense lovemaking that was leisurely and lingering instead of being vigorous and rough. Jim seemed to revel in it and that reflected in the constant soft moans, pants and occasional sharp wails he let out. Every time Mycroft touched the sweet spot inside him, he clung tighter and tighter to the older man till Mycroft felt as if he was about to disappear inside his beautiful, debauched lover. He maintained the steady but quiet rhythm of their lovemaking till they arrived at a point of no return, which was when Mycroft finally sneaked his hand between their bodies and grabbed Jim’s erection.

 

It didn’t take long after that.

 

They came with soft sighs and whispers of each other’s names rather than loud cries and sudden movements. Jim’s eyes slipped shut automatically as Mycroft pulled out of him and his arms and legs slowly fell limply back on the bed. Finally he was sated, drained and asleep.

 

Mycroft was struggling to stay awake but managed to clean them up to some extent before he settled down next to Jim, keep a possessive hold over his waist to keep him close.

 

Before nodding off he had made up his mind.

 

He was going to marry James Moriarty.

 

***

 

Jim had fallen into blissful sleep and stayed asleep for ten hours straight. When he woke up finally, it was nearly ten in the morning and the sun had risen high in the skies. Slightly dazed and feeling more relaxed than ever, he sat up and called out, “Mikey.”

 

The bed was empty, the sheets were cold, there were no signs of Mycroft anywhere.

 

Jim took barely ten minutes to use the toilet, brush his teeth (he had started keeping a toothbrush in Mycroft’s bathroom) and get back into his PJ’s. After a quick peek outside in the hallway to check if anyone was there, he sneaked out and went straight to his room. To his surprise he found Mycroft sitting there on his bed and looking at a photograph of Jim which stood on the nightstand. He was whistling a tune softly, a quiet and thoughtful look on his face.

 

“Mikey?”

 

“James.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Mycroft had a thousand things to say. The fact that when he had woken up almost two hours ago he hadn’t felt like attending work. That was very shocking because he had always been a workaholic who sometimes attended office even on weekends. Never before had he felt such a need to skip work. The next thing he had noticed was Jim’s peacefully sleeping face inches from his own and it had made him realize something totally unexpected. Sex with Jim had been nice but waking up next to him was even better. It was so intimate, satisfying and such a mood-lifter. If all he saw every morning was that reposed face, the slightly parted lips and those long lashes lying on Jim’s cheekbones like paintbrushes, he would be the happiest man on earth.

 

But a thousand things in his mind and heart translated to just one sentence on his tongue. “Can we take the day off?”

 

Jim blinked, “No. I have a meeting with the investors who are funding our Abu Dhabi project and a conference call with Sherlock and the team of engineers. I am already late for that call. We can’t take today off Mikey, sorry.”

 

“No,” Mycroft said sheepishly, “Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

 

“I liked that you asked for this day,” Jim replied, “I said no for today doesn’t mean I shall say no for tomorrow as well.”

 

Mycroft decided to be practical and not impulsive. “Instead of calling in sick during busy days and disrupting our schedules, let’s do something else. I have a plan. I think we could extend the trip to New Mexico by two or three days and spend some time on our own there. What say?”

 

Jim’s eyes lit up, “Yes, yes, yes, yessss! I think that’s a brilliant idea. You know what, despite living there for so long and working in Las Vegas for almost a year I haven’t visited the Grand Canyon. That’s so stupid of me, isn’t it? Will you take me to the Grand Canyon Mikey? I want to fly over it in a chopper, do a boat ride in the Yellow River, take photographs from the sky walk deck and buy souvenirs.”

 

“You want to do all that?” Mycroft asked, smiling indulgently.

 

“Yeah. But right now I wanna eat something. I am soooo hungry.”

 

“We’ll have breakfast now. This plan to vacation in the states and visit the canyon is fantastic and I’ll make all the arrangements needed. In fact, when we are there I can even cook breakfast for you. Maybe I never told you before, but I am a reasonably good cook.”

 

“You might be,” Jim winked, “But I think you’re a better lover!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thumbs up if you seriously doubt Jim's intentions and wonder if he truly loves both brothers ;-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a good time, Mycroft gets a scare. Sherlock notices something 'off' about Jim.

Sherlock pouted as Jim began to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

 

“You look like a terrorist,” Jim snickered and chuckled, “Not like an Arabian Prince.”

 

Sherlock took off the robe and head gear and tossed them away, folding his arms over his chest in a gesture of annoyance. He somehow didn’t expect Jim to be so brutally honest about the way he looked in the ‘local attire’. “Heya Sherly, helloooo, stop that pouting little kid look and look at me,” Jim tried to pacify him, “I know you’d like to hear nothing but the truth right? That’s why I told you what it was…..okay, okay, you still looked like a handsome terrorist, someone who could wield a gun and shock the five senses out of you one moment and then put a rose between his teeth the next moment and win you over. Happy now?”

 

Sherlock huffed, “Liar.”

 

“Don’t we all lie?”

 

“We should lie only on three occasions Jimmy. When we have to save a life. When we need to protect someone from hurt. When we know it is totally harmless and doesn’t cross a line in terms of integrity.”

 

On hearing that Jim looked serious all of a sudden. “You think it’s okay to lie in order to save someone’s life? Or to protect someone from getting hurt?”

 

“Yeah. If I have to lie under gunpoint because it might save your life, I’d gladly sin.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Sherlock moved closer to the screen, “Hey! Are you all right? Is something bothering you? Something I should know?”

 

“No,” Jim said quickly, “Nothing really. Sherly, I miss you.”

 

Sherlock felt a pang of hurt and emptiness in his chest. Truth was that life without Jim was proving to be surprisingly difficult and lonely. “Thought you’d never say that,” he whispered, “It’s been three weeks almost and soon you’ll be visiting the States, bigger time zone gap, we won’t even manage to Skype each other every day. I miss you so much sometimes that I am tempted to book myself a flight ticket and just show up in London.”

 

“Then why don’t you?” Jim sounded hurt and something else Sherlock couldn’t quite identify.

 

“I don’t want to antagonize the clients and ruin the good work you did initially Jimmy,” Sherlock said, “I’ll be over as soon as I can, you know that right?”

 

“Yes I do understand and I can wait, don’t worry about it,” Jim sniffled, turning his face away to hide the tears that welled up without warning, “I need to go now, I have to go meet the interior decorator of my house and then attend your mum’s charity ball at the Plaza tonight. You take care and stay safe, text me whenever you can and just…..just be good okay? We will meet soon Sherl, soon.”

 

“Soon,” Sherlock felt a lump in his throat too. Usually he complained at the end of every call, saying he’d have preferred for the call to go on, but tonight he actually was glad he could hang up. Seeing Jim emotionally vulnerable, saying he missed him, had proved to be a trigger for Sherlock’s own emotions to find an outlet. He didn’t want Jim to see him break down.

 

Closing his laptop, Sherlock lay down in bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time. He had been invited to a party that night and he could very well stay there till the early hours of the morning, getting sloshed and returning home too tired to do anything but sleep. But parties, experiments, books, company, nothing interested him anymore nowadays. Jim had truly spoiled him in those two months and he missed all those intellectual pursuits which the Irishman indulged him with. He missed their chess games, their puzzle solving marathons, the star gazing till midnight, those intense debates over formulas and theories and constellations.

 

With a sigh he turned to his phone and texted the only man who he could rely on during these times. Victor Trevor. He pushed the keys on his phone and typed out a message.

 

“Hey Vic, what are you up to?”

 

In a flash the answer came.

 

“Was waiting for you to text me!!!”

 

Thought Sherlock found that odd he was glad someone was eager to talk to him.

 

***

 

“This is so beautiful,” Jim spoke as if he was in a daze, gazing downwards through wondrous eyes, “The canyon looks so beautiful like this, from up here.”

 

He exclaimed again, as the chopper flew even further downwards, the canyon cliffs rising majestically on both sides while the river flew its meandering course below. “Thank you Mikey,” he gave Mycroft a sudden hug and repeated, “Thank you thank you thank you!!!”

 

Mycroft wrapped an arm around Jim and whispered softly, “Anytime.” His eyes remained on Jim and the look of happiness he saw on the Irishman’s eyes filled him with delight and bliss. Never before had anything made him so happy, never had any success or any achievement given him such complete gladness. Seeing Jim’s childish delight, seeing that spark in his eyes was perhaps the best thing Mycroft had ever laid eyes on. Now all he wanted to do was to see that spark of life, that glittering smile of happiness every single day.

 

After the chopper ride they went for the walk on the sky deck. Jim and Mycroft posed for picture on the deck, standing on the clear glass floor through which they could see the bottom of the canyon hundreds of feet below.

 

They ate a nice lunch at one of the shacks, hotdogs and crisps and coke light. Jim kept showing Mycroft the photographs he had taken and Mycroft noticed that they looked good together in one frame. For a long time Mycroft had believed he was a plain looking chap whose only attribute was his sharp brains. Now he felt different, more self-assured. Being next to Jim doubled his confidence and he started to see himself in a new light. Nope, he wasn’t too bad looking, in fact he looked pretty smart in his casual attire and hat. Jim and he looked quite nice together, like a couple, a real couple.

 

Later they took a bus and went for their boat ride. Mycroft had hired a boat for them so they’d be able to take the ride in complete privacy as well as for a much longer period than the normal fifteen minutes. Once again he saw Jim transform into a child, an excited and happy child.

 

“I want to buy this,” Jim pulled at his arm as they entered one of the souvenir store, “This one, fridge magnet, I want that pocket book, those pens, I want those pens. Oh look, miniature Joshua trees and that photo frame, that looks so awesome doesn’t it?”

 

“Buy them,” Mycroft said, “Anything you want.”

 

By the time they were seated in their Mercedes SUV Jim had several packets with him and Mycroft was grinning like an idiot. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t wipe that grin off his face. Rare and almost unthinkable for a man who was known for an expressionless face.

 

“Had a good time?” He asked as the chauffeur started the car.

 

“Best one ever,” Jim replied, rubbing his eyes, “But so fucking tiring.”

 

“Better than those trips you did with Sherlock back in Dubai?” Mycroft couldn’t help but ask.

 

“Huh? Why such a question? Those were wonderful, this was one fascinating, I enjoyed both.”

 

“Oh yes, of course. I am glad you liked it.”

 

Ten minutes later Jim fell asleep on Mycroft’s shoulder. The older Holmes sibling leaned against Jim and stayed still, breathing in the smaller man’s scent, his shampoo, his cologne and reveling in the warmth of his skin and breath. Having Jim so close was a privilege! It was a privilege he hadn’t even known before and naturally never missed earlier, but going forward he was sure he’d miss Jim terribly when the latter returned to Dubai in a couple of weeks.

 

By the time they were back to Las Vegas Mycroft had started making plans to visit their Abu Dhabi site very soon. If Jim had to stay there then the only way to see him more often was if he travelled there. So that’s what he’d do!

 

***

 

“Jim, what happened, Jimmy? This is not a cold. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

 

Sherlock couldn’t believe his eyes. The normally ebullient and wickedly delightful Jim looked very different. He looked vulnerable, he looked broken. He was sure Jim was crying even though the brunette tried his best to conceal that by claiming he had a cold. From those puffy and red eyes, the reddishness around his cheeks and nose and the general look of sadness on the pretty face, Sherlock had figured out that his lover was in some serious distress. Evidently Jim had been crying for quite some time because even his breathing pattern was different, it was unsteady with short intakes and deep shuddering sighs.

 

“N-No, I am fine, I am all right Sh-Sherlock,” Jim sniffled, wishing he had not answered the call or just stayed offline. But he hadn’t spoken to Sherlock for almost four days and the younger Holmes was getting panicky. After receiving the sixteenth message from Sherlock about where he was and if he was okay, he had to relent and get on the Skype call. But the move had backfired badly. Sherlock had a keen and observant eye and the evidence of his mental distress had caused the Englishman to get even more panicky and desperate.

 

“No, you’re not,” Sherlock said, “Or else you would have called me Sherly or Sherlylocks.”

 

“I am just tired.”

 

“Being tired doesn’t make people cry.”

 

“Please believe me.”

 

“I want to. But I can’t. I have to believe my eyes.”

 

“No Sherly…..”

 

“Listen, do you trust me Jimmy?”

 

“What? Oh yes, I do, I do of course.”

 

Sherlock sighed, “In that case please share, please tell me what’s bothering you. I have never seen you so vulnerable and seeing you like this has pulled the rug from under my feet. How would you have reacted had you seen me crying, puffy eyed, short of breath and distressed?”

 

“I….ehm…..I just miss my dad.”

 

Sherlock was eventually forced to believe that but he didn’t buy it completely.

 

He decided to find out more about Jim but that was a task for later. For now his primary goal was to cheer Jim up and make him smile, at least a little bit. He spoke at length to his lover and kept switching from one topic to the other, trying to cheer him up with jokes and riddles, trying to steer the conversation towards things Jim liked or was passionate about. Jim didn’t become okay completely but over a period of time he did stop crying and looked a lot better than before. “Listen Jimmy,” Sherlock said after almost an hour and half, “I will be in London soon and I am going to stay at my own flat. Stay with me, okay? There is no need to live in my parents’ house any longer. My flat is your flat too.”

 

“Why?” Jim asked unexpectedly, “It’s nice to hear that but we both know that’s not true. I mean, how can your flat be my flat? I can live there with you but I will always be a house guest and nothing more.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Sherlock stopped him, a little hurt at that casual dismissal.

 

“I have reasons to say that,” Jim insisted, “It’s your home and nobody else’s. I know you want to make me feel better Sherl but let’s not be delusional about some things in life. I am aware of my boundaries and hold a firm belief that some boundaries should never be crossed. It ruins friendships and relationships.”

 

“How do I convince you?” Sherlock wished he was better with words.

 

“You don’t need to,” Jim replied, “You offered to let me stay with you. I think that makes me happy enough.”

 

“What if I want to do more?”

 

“All in good time Sherly.”

 

***

 

“What have you done to Jim?”

 

Mycroft almost dropped the phone, “Excuse me?”

 

Sherlock could hardly believe he was talking to Mycroft like this. They had their arguments, sarcasm filled retorts, differences of opinion but never had he accused Mycroft like this and hat too over a third person. But Jim’s tears had fueled up his anger to such an extent that he had to get this off his chest. “I spoke to Jim this morning and he seemed broken, depressed, he was crying like a kid. What’s happening there Myc? You guys flew to US together for work and if he’s so upset then it has to be something to do with you, or work, or something you might have said to him. What did you tell him Myc? Was there a fight or something?”

 

Mycroft’s cool demeanor almost faltered. He was shocked and annoyed, shocked at hearing about Jim’s condition and annoyed by the way his kid brother was accusing him for being the reason behind it.

 

It surprised him that Jim had been crying and upset because the previous day the same Jim had been over the moon after their Grand Canyon visit. He had been so happy he could hardly stop smiling. That morning Mycroft had left Jim peacefully asleep in bed and taken off for a breakfast meeting at 7 am. The last conversation they had had was the night before and that too had been amicable and affectionate exchange. Jim had said he was too tired and wanted to go straight to bed instead of having dinner and, since their trip to the Grand Canyon had been long and draining, Mycroft had allowed him to do that without even a blink. Mycroft eventually had dinner alone and hit the sack within an hour, falling asleep the moment his head had hit the pillow.

 

No, he couldn’t think of one reason why Jim would be unhappy.

 

“You still there?” Sherlock barked.

 

“I am. But it seems your brains have taken a walk in the park. Accusing me of something so baseless, that’s just rubbish!”

 

“Myc, I am worried about Jim.”

 

“I am with him here and I know how to look after him.”

 

“That’s what worries me. Your idea of looking after people is mostly about making them do what you want.”

 

“Oh! Is it? Suddenly everything I have ever done is wrong?”

 

“That’s not what I said.”

 

“Then what ARE you trying to say Lock? That you are the only person in this world who cares about Jim or wants him to be happy? I am sure mummy and daddy feel the same, as do I. He isn’t a child. He has a past. I can’t keep an eye on him all the time, nor can I be the only cause of his distress. In fact, we went to see the Grand Canyon yesterday and he was happier than a lark by the time we left. Then he slept through the night, quite peacefully and…..”

 

Mycroft nearly slapped himself. What did he just say?

 

Sherlock had caught on. “How do you know how well he slept last night?”

 

Mycroft caught himself in an impromptu safety net of his own creation. “Ehm….I went to wake him up for work this morning but he was still tired, so I let him sleep. So yeah, it’s just a feeling you get that he slept well all night but needed more rest. But this isn’t important, what’s important is asking Jim how he’s doing and what’s bothering him. Only he can answer that. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start assuming silly things.”

 

“Being concerned about a friend isn’t being silly,” Sherlock shot back but he seemed calmer this time, “I will be in London soon. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

 

Once he hung up, Mycroft muttered an expletive under his breath and got into his car. But while he dismissed his brother’s behavior as childish he didn’t dismiss the concern Sherlock had mentioned. If Jim was unhappy, distressed, crying then that wasn’t good news. To make matters worse, when he called Jim a few times on the way home the calls went straight to voice mail. Panic and worry began to creep into Mycroft slowly and he wished he had probed a bit more with Sherlock to understand the situation with Jim. Despite the feelings he had for the man, he didn’t know Jim too well yet. He berated himself for not asking enough questions, for not trying to find out more.

 

_Better late than never, this time try and figure out his soul instead of craving only for his body._

 

That very thought made Mycroft ashamed of himself.

 

He burst into the penthouse apartment the Holmes family owned and called out, “James?”

 

No answer. Mycroft called out again, “James, are you home? Where are you? I am home.” He took off his jacket and tie and tossed them and his briefcase on the couch, running from room to room to look for the Irishman. But every room was empty and dark and even though Mycroft’s footsteps activated the motion sensor lights they did nothing to remove the emptiness that echoed loudly in the penthouse. Jim was not there.

 

“God,” Mycroft sank into a chair. What would he say to Sherlock, or to mummy. Would anyone believe him? Anyone would think he had done something to drive Jim away from the house.

 

_Shit, I should have woken him up and taken him to work like we had previously agreed. Perhaps he felt that I don’t want to work with him, that I consider him nothing more than a piece of ass._

Those thoughts turned into malevolent vibes in his brain and all sorts of doomsdays scenarios began to fly before his eyes. Jim breaking up with him, Jim refusing to work with then, Jim telling his parents how Mycroft had ‘used’ him. He had to find Jim and fix things, he had to do that without any further delays.

 

Scarcely had he picked up the phone to dial 911 when the front door opened and Mycroft heard the familiar crunch of boots on the maple wood floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The JimCroft Grand Canyon visit was just my romantic side playing with the boys. I wish I could do a Sheriarty Eiffel Tower at night kinda thing but in this story it might not be possible! Thanks for reading this story so far!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three is company or crowd?

Mycroft had never felt so relieved and worried at the same time. Relieved because it was Jim standing there holding a large doggy bag and worried because Jim did look washed out and sad, as if he had been coping with something negative and distressing all day. “James,” he called out gently, “I was…..”

 

“I scared you, didn’t I?” Jim interrupted and gave him a closer look, “I am sorry Mike. I didn’t mean to.”

 

“I wasn’t scared James,” Mycroft slowly took a few steps towards Jim, wondering why he felt as if the younger man would turn and bolt for the door, “Scared doesn’t even begin to make the cut. I was actually petrified, I was crushed. Sherlock called me and told me something was bothering you and when I tried to contact you my calls went straight to voice mail. Then I come home and you’re not there, no note for me, no text, nothing. Sorry, I might be making a huge demand on you but please answer my calls okay? I was never a nervous man but for a few moments I had become a pathetic bundle of nerves. I was about to call 911.”

 

“Mikey,” Jim said softly, looking quite surprised, “I left my phone at home, by mistake.”

 

“Oh….sorry…but then…..James, what’s going on? Where had you been?”

 

“I went to the grocery store because I was sick of having takeout for breakfast and dinner. Bought some basic supplies. But listen, I could go anywhere I want. I wasn’t aware that I had to inform anyone about my whereabouts or take their permission to go anywhere.”

 

“Sorry if that came out wrong. I was just worried and thought of the worst scenarios.”

 

Jim stood still and silent for a long moment, his eyes lowered. Mycroft stood similarly still, a thousand different thoughts swarming in his head. Should I apologize for crossing a line, should I just tell him I want to see him happy and unharmed, should I say I want to be there for you or should I just be non-intrusive and not make any further comments on this, just end the conversation here and now.

 

“Mikey,” Jim said softly, lifting his eyes again.

 

Mycroft forgot everything and opened out his arms.

 

The next moment Jim was hugging him tight and he found himself hugging Jim back just as tight. It was a clinging, demanding, consoling, desperate embrace, filled with a thousand unsaid words and emotions.

 

“I am sorry, I should have taken my phone along,” Jim choked out the words. It was clear he was close to tears again.

 

Usually Mycroft was uncomfortable with tears or any display of emotion. But as he watched Jim crumble he felt a strange trickle from his eyes, a strange lump in his throat, a weird sensation in his chest. _No, I am not crying, I have something in my eye, it’s irritating me, men don’t cry, no Holmes ever cries._

 

 _Damn_ , Mycroft shook his head, _who am I kidding? I am crying. I am fucking crying_.

 

With Jim he had reset every rule and every judgment he had so far held on to, like one would reboot a laptop and choose a different operating system to go with it. And the funny thing was that he, Mycroft, who hated any changes was now willing to change and even looked forward to changes. He didn’t mind crying anymore, he didn’t mind letting his guard down, he didn’t mind the fact that the iceberg heart of his was not just thawing but melting into a puddle. “James, don’t cry, please,” he whispered into Jim’s ear as they stood in that close embrace, “I am not very good with consoling, please don’t do this to yourself. If there is something I can do to make things better…..no matter what is wrong…..I will do it, I will do it for….you.”

 

“Anything?” Jim sniffled.

 

“Anything,” Mycroft confirmed.

 

“Make love to me. Please make me forget.”

 

Mycroft didn’t even think ‘make me forget what’. He didn’t need answers. He just wanted to make things better for Jim.

 

“Yes, sure.”

 

“Bedroom?”

 

Mycroft lifted Jim in his arms and moved swiftly towards the bedroom. The door shut behind them.

 

***

 

Mycroft stilled completely when the tourniquet tight contractions started around his cock. Jim was on all fours before him, shaking spasmodically as he came and came and came, shooting everything on the sheets beneath them. Mycroft had made him cum from just anal stimulation.

 

“D-Don’t cum yet,” Jim moaned, still shuddering from aftershocks, “Please….I need to fuck you tonight. Can I?”

 

Mycroft froze for a moment. He had never thought about assuming a submissive role. While he had allowed Jim to top from bottom or pleasure him aggressively while he lay and received pleasure, he hadn’t even considered allowing any form of intrusion. He hadn’t even allowed a dildo or a vibrator to enter his body. His very first reaction to Jim’s request was shock but refusal didn’t even come to him as a thought. If Jim asked for it, Jim was going to get it. The big question in his mind right now was about the ways he’d cope with something so different, something that even scared him a bit.

 

“Y-Yeah you can,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation. Thanks to that momentary shock his orgasm had ebbed and he could at least control his body. Thank God for small mercies.

 

“Don’t worry Mikey,” Jim panted as he moved a little and let Mycroft’s hard cock slide out of his slippery arse, “I will make it comfortable for you, I’ll be gentle, I’ll even stop if I have to just in case you are in pain.” He let Mycroft lie down on his back and fold his legs up before he grabbed the lube and sat on his knees between the older man’s open legs. “Just relax and don’t forget to breathe,” he said as he dipped his head and licked at the head of his lover’s cock, making Mycroft moan and thrust up slightly, “The less tense you are, the easier it will be on you. Relax and let me open you up.”

 

Mycroft nodded.

 

It was a strange experience at first but Mycroft managed to relax and distract himself with the feel of Jim’s tongue on his throbbing cock. His erection faltered slightly when Jim finally pushed inside but it was back to life when a secret part of him was hit dead on, making him groan deep.

 

“Fuck that was…..” he panted

 

“It was, wasn’t it?” Jim asked, thrusting in and out.

 

“Y-You can do it harder, faster,” Mycroft blushed deep as he voiced his need.

 

“I can?”

 

“Yeah James….yes do it baby.”

 

“Baby?”

 

“Yes, my baby cakes.”

 

Jim smiled for the first time that evening and upped his pace, making Mycroft moan out loud again. They moved in perfect harmony, Jim thrusting and pulling and Mycroft pushed down on the invading muscle till none of them knew who was controlling the pace. Arms around each other, kissing and nibbling on each other’s lips, they continued to make love till Mycroft came apart and grabbed his cock to jerk himself to completion.

 

His orgasm triggered Jim’s and the older Holmes sibling watched with satisfaction as the Irishman screamed through his orgasm. Clearly Jim enjoyed topping as well as bottoming and Mycroft was glad he had taken this risk, stepped out of his comfort zone and given Jim what he wanted. That was all he wished to do, give Jim everything he wanted. Right now if Jim asked him to rip his heart out he’d gladly do that and place it on the younger man’s palm.

 

When they had recovered sufficiently, cleaned up (Mycroft was very particular about that) and managed to relax in each other’s embrace, Jim whispered. “Thanks, I needed that, I feel much better now.”

 

“You know James,” Mycroft whispered to his lover, suddenly feeling a need to share, “I think my life is changing completely. You’ve made me a better person, a more relaxed and complete man. I used to be such a tight-arse before. I always thought that bottoming was not meant for an alpha male like me. Intrusion scared me, repulsed me, in fact that was the only aspect of gay sex that made me want to stay asexual all my life. But this evening, with you in my arms, my fears simply vanished. In fact I was eager for it after a point. Now, I think I wouldn’t mind switching roles sometimes. Maybe once or twice a week we could try this, or even more, whatever makes you happy.”

 

Jim tensed in his arms. “What happened?” Mycroft asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

 

“Why are you being so nice?” Jim asked.

 

“Huh? Isn’t that how we are supposed to be? With people you like and care about?”

 

“Why do you even care about me? What do you know about me? I could be a real bad person, someone harmful and malevolent.”

 

“No James, my baby cakes, you can’t be anything like that…..”

 

“I CAN BE.”

 

Jim sat up in bed and screamed at the top of his lungs. Mycroft withdrew his arms, shocked, but he didn’t push Jim away even as the man switched moods faster than the traffic light. “Baby, relax, you’re just having an episode. Something must have triggered it. Do ya want me to call…”

 

“No, NO,” Jim lay back in Mycroft’s arms, suddenly calm, “Don’t call anyone. Please don’t.”

 

“Okay, I won’t,” Mycroft assured, a worried look on his face, “Sleep now. You look exhausted.”

 

“I am exhausted,” Jim mumbled and curled up in Mycroft’s arms. He fell asleep after a while. Mycroft lay awake for half the night thinking about Jim and his strange behavior, his mood swings and the helplessness he had felt when he had seen Jim have that episode. What sort of a companion was he if he couldn’t support his boyfriend during stressful, troubled times.

 

No sooner had he finished that thought he shuddered. _Did he just consider them boyfriends?_

 

Then it occurred to him that _maybe they were_.

 

***

 

Jim seemed all right over the next few days and Mycroft had no second thoughts about extending their trip by a week and returning to London a few days later than planned. He informed his mummy that he would be staying in his own flat for a few weeks and she didn’t have any problems with that, though she did remind him to visit and join her and daddy for the Sunday brunch. “Usually kids didn’t share a home with parents after a certain age,” Mycroft explained on their way to the flat he owned, “Maybe Lockie and I have overstayed our welcome there. Mummy seemed happy to note that I’d like to live on my own. About time, I guess.”

 

“If you were married wouldn’t you have moved out a long time ago?” Jim asked.

 

“You are right actually,” Mycroft replied sheepishly, “Had Lockie or I been in a serious committed relationship or married we wouldn’t have continued to share lodgings with our folks. But then mum and dad have a mansion with twenty bedrooms and a retinue of domestic helps and it’s a bit of a convenience to come home to hot meals and have clothes laundered and ironed the following morning when you’re in a hurry to leave for work. Being workaholics and loners, both of us brothers didn’t bother setting up our own abode.”

 

“Then why now?” Jim asked.

 

Mycroft lowered his brows slightly, “Isn’t that obvious?”

 

“No, not to me,” Jim kept a straight face.

 

“It’s because I want us to have our privacy,” Mycroft replied as safely and diplomatically as he could. He knew what Jim meant but he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer such questions. At least, not yet.

 

“I see.”

 

“Do you want to live in mummy’s house? I mean we could….”

“No, your flat is fine. In fact, someday soon I should be able to move into my own house.”

 

Mycroft felt a pang of loneliness immediately but didn’t make any comments. The very idea of not having Jim around was troublesome, to say the least, and he didn’t even want such a day to arrive. Before Jim’s home was ready, he would have to ensure they were in a committed and long-term relationship. He had to do everything possible to make that happen.

 

Jim kept looking at him a few times and Mycroft simply smiled back, choosing not to use words when he didn’t know how to choose them appropriately. If his silence annoyed Jim then the smaller man did well to hide that completely.

 

They stayed silent for the rest of the journey.

 

***

 

“I like this place, it’s nice and modern but with a touch of the traditional,” Jim observed as they stepped into the elevators with their luggage, “Posh but not exactly the Belgravia kind of posh. I’d find that stifling and very annoying. This place at least has some grass, some trees and some space around. One can find parking space even if you own more than one vehicle, a quiet residential neighborhood where you can jog or do a few rounds on your bike, where people are busy with their lives and non-interfering. This building is new, I can in fact smell the new paint and the varnish from the woodwork. How long have you owned this flat Mikey?”

 

“Just over a year,” Mycroft said, helping Jim with the luggage as they reached the appointed floor, “I booked it three years ago but last year is when we got possession. I also own a house in Manchester.”

 

They walked down the hallway and Mycroft used a security lock combination to unlock the first door before proceeding to use a more traditional key system to get in through the second one. “I am always a little paranoid about these things,” he explained to an amused Jim, “The place is secure, safe, we have security teams patrolling this area, but I need the assurance of my own security system. So, here we are, this is my flat. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a large open plan kitchen with an adjoining extended dining area, a formal sitting room, an informal living room with a large screen television and a wet bar, a home office and a laundry room.”

 

“And Sherlock?” Jim asked.

 

Mycroft frowned, “What?”

 

“Also your brother?”

 

“Lockie? What do you mean?”

 

“Look.”

 

Mycroft followed Jim’s pointed finger and saw Sherlock sitting on one of the cushy, soft couches and typing away furiously on his laptop. He had his headphones on and was possibly listening to something as well, his back turned towards the two men.

 

“How did he get in here?” Mycroft murmured.

 

“Well, it seems your flat is not so secure really,” Jim couldn’t help but tease the older man. He was smiling broadly at the sight of Sherlock.

 

Mycroft wasn’t even thinking about the security system at all. He was struggling with the disappointment of not being home alone with Jim, something he had meticulously planned for the past few days. He was also surprised by Sherlock’s unexpected visit and ashamed that he was not the least bit happy to see his kid brother after more than three and half months.

 

As if on cue, Sherlock took off his headphone abruptly and turned around. His eyes brightened when he saw Jim and then a scowl came over his face when he spotted Mycroft. For a moment he even looked a bit apologetic and Mycroft realized his younger brother was just as taken aback by his lack of happiness at seeing Mycroft. The equation between them had changed and Sherlock was evidently more ecstatic at seeing Jim. Disturbed and puzzled, Mycroft tried to be as mature as possible and started the conversation with the most pertinent statement. “So you cracked the security code and kept a spare key on my behalf when you dropped by last time?”

 

“Yeah, what else?” Sherlock said as he stood up, rocking on his heels.

 

“Can I have the key back?” Mycroft asked, “And don’t crack codes like this. Next time you wish to visit, just ask.”

 

Sherlock tossed the key at Mycroft and ignored the comment, turning towards Jim instead. “Hey beautiful, what’s up?”

 

Jim observed their exchange and was trying to read into the dynamics of the relationship between the brothers. He got a start when Sherlock addressed him, “Hey. I’m good, you?”

 

“You were supposed to be back last week,” Sherlock walked towards Jim and hugged him.

 

“Itineraries change, plans change, this isn’t something that’s happened for the first time Sherlock,” Mycroft answered, stepping between Sherlock and Jim, “Good to see you too.”

 

Sherlock nodded, “Yeah.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on him but he chose not to reply.

 

“How did you know we were supposed to be here?” Jim asked.

 

“Overheard mummy talking to Mycroft,” Sherlock replied, “Thought it would be nice to come in here and prepare the place for all of us.”

 

“Us?” Mycroft was aghast.

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said, “I have stocked the fridge and the kitchen, the bathrooms and the bar. We are all set for the next few weeks.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim narrowly avoids becoming the ham in a Holmes sandwich

Jim looked on in total alarm, eyes darting from Mycroft to Sherlock and back, as if he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Mycroft stared in livid anger at Sherlock who stared back at him defiantly, smirking and contemptuous. The tension in the air was so thick one could easily cut through it with a knife.

 

“I do recall you have a flat of your own,” Mycroft said in a tight voice.

 

Sherlock smirked harder and crossed his legs. So, there was something in the air which he had sniffed out cleverly. Never before had he seen his normally composed and poised brother so coiled up over a simple incident. “Yes of course I do have a flat, I don’t need a reminder for that,” Sherlock said arrogantly, “However, it’s not like I can’t stay for a few weeks with my brother, especially since our special guest Mr. Moriarty is also going to stay here. Clearly you don’t mind guests in the house, then why mind your brother?”

 

“You are wrong,” Mycroft quickly became his calm, unreadable self again, “I certainly don’t mind.”

 

“You don’t mind me or you don’t mind Jim?”

 

“None of you. Now, I’ll unpack, change into something comfortable and order dinner. We will talk later. Come on James.”

 

Sherlock frowned, “James?”

 

Mycroft realized something was off and answered cautiously, “Why?”

 

“You said you’re going to change and unpack your bags. I don’t suppose you change before guests or unpack your bags, do you.”

 

Mycroft looked at Jim, hopeful that they could make the announcement that the two of them no longer needed to sleep in separate rooms. But Jim made a silent plea with a hand gesture (which he ensured Sherlock didn’t notice) to hold their secret back for a little while longer. Though a bit taken aback, Mycroft went with Jim’s wish and didn’t reveal his relationship with the man yet. “I mean that…um…” he tried to think of a believable excuse.

 

“He was going to show me to my room,” Jim added helpfully.

 

“Oh,” Sherlock looked at Jim with surprise and confusion. Wasn’t Jim supposed to share a room with him? Wasn’t this the right moment to let his elder sibling know that Sherlock and Jim shared a special thing?

 

Jim didn’t react at first. He started following Mycroft towards a guest bedroom. Only when he was nearly at the door did he turn and answer Sherlock’s silent question. “We will talk later Sherlock. I am a bit tired right now, please understand.”

 

Sherlock slowly nodded, “Oh yes, of course, understand.”

 

***

 

The evening had been a tense affair after that. Only ten sentences had been exchanged between the three men over a period of three hours and dinner had been only pecked at, despite Mycroft ordering the cuisine all three of them liked – Italian. Eventually Mycroft stored the enormous amount of leftover pasta, chicken and dessert in the fridge and retired to his room while Jim padded to his. Sherlock paced up and down in the hallway for a few minutes before he took the third bedroom, annoyed at the way things had turned out. Clearly something was very wrong.

 

Almost an hour later his bedroom door opened and in walked Jim.

 

Almost instantly the door was slammed shut and locked from inside and Sherlock attacked his Jim’s neck with his lips. In less than a minute he had sucked a hickey there and had proceeded to devour Jim’s lips, grabbing his butt in his large hands and squeezing hard. Jim moaned, the slight pain causing him extreme pleasure. Seeing how excited Sherlock was to see him had made him rock hard and he began to rut against the Englishman, their mouths mashed together in a wet kiss.

 

“God I missed you,” Sherlock groaned when they parted, “Missed you.”

 

“Me too,” Jim was so hard he felt he’d implode, “Please just…..”

 

Sherlock tore his clothes off, buttons pinging and scattering across the room, and landed on the bed with Jim trapped underneath him. “I am going to fuck the cum outta you,” Sherlock said possessively, “I won’t even let you touch your cock.”

 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll cum before you even get inside me,” Jim cried out, raising his hips in anticipation.

 

Sherlock kissed him again and reached for the lube.

 

Five minutes later Sherlock had flipped Jim on his back, raised Jim’s legs over his own shoulders and entered him in a long, smooth and forceful thrust. Jim bit down on his fist to stop himself from screaming out with pleasure but the rosy blush on his cheeks spread all the way to his neck, shoulder and upper chest. He was beside himself with arousal, shaking with the need to cum. The moment Sherlock made the first thrust inside him, his cock began to leak.

 

“Oh fuck,” Sherlock skimmed the clear slick and licked it off his fingers, then kissed Jim and gave him the taste, “Tasty!”

 

“Y-Y-e-aaah,” Jim arched up, his prostate hit hard, “Right there Sherly!”

 

“Fuck I missed you so much, missed this so much,” Sherlock cradled him in his arms like a doll and dandled him like a child would play with his toy, all the while thrusting hard between his open legs. Slowly his thrusts began to get rougher and deeper and Jim began to let out muted groans of joy and delight. Sherlock was beginning to lose it already but he held on bravely, praying to all the Gods he knew of to give him enough strength to curb his orgasm. It would be hugely embarrassing if he ended up cumming before Jim. He had to watch the sperm leave Jim’s cock and only then he’d allow himself the luxury of an orgasm.

 

Repeated thrusts that nudged his prostate, Sherlock’s mouth sucking bruises on his shoulder and neck, those hands grabbing him everywhere, Jim could hardly control himself any longer. Sherlock had been right. There was no need for him to touch himself, jerk off or look for any additional pleasure. He was happy enough with what he was getting and could hardly wait to cum all over himself, get bathed in his own seed. He clawed at Sherlock’s arms and chest, unable to do anything else in that position but allow Sherlock to do all the work.

 

Sherlock felt Jim tense up and let out a strangled moan. The next moment his first shot flew out of his cock and landed on his cheek. As Sherlock leaned closer, the second shot hit his neck and the subsequent shots painted Jim’s chest and stomach. Sherlock looked at it in wonder.

 

There was something utterly beautiful about the rosy blush contrasting with the pearly seed splattered on it.

 

Before Jim was done with, Sherlock came.

 

He acted like a fish out of water. Letting go of Jim’s legs, he lay down atop the smaller man and buried his face in his neck, muffling the animal yowl that came out of this throat when his cock erupted like a geyser.

 

“Fuck Jimmy,” he wheezed and hissed as he came hard.

 

“Uh….Sherlylocks,” Jim’s head lolled to one side and he wrapped his arms and legs tightly around the curly haired man’s long, flowing frame.

 

“So good!”

 

“Yeah. You okay now?”

 

“Yeah. I love….I mean I loved it, I needed it so bad. When I got to know my brother was bringing you here I had to….um….I mean…..I had to find a way to be here.”

 

They lay like that for several minutes, wrapped up together in silence and enjoying the lovely afterglow. Jim pretended to be tired, sleepy, just so he could avoid a conversation but Sherlock was not going to let things slide so easily. As soon as he was a bit calmer from the hurricane orgasm, he raised himself on an elbow and looked into Jim’s face with a curious look.

 

“Why did we lie to Mycroft? Why are we sleeping in separate rooms? Why are we meeting like thieves who have something to hide?”

 

Jim turned in his arms and reached down to grasp Sherlock’s soft cock. It instantly twitched and woke up in his fist and the younger Holmes groaned with pleasure. “Stop it,” the green-eyed man laughed and nuzzled Jim’s cheek while the Irishman snuggled closer and disarmingly buried his face in the long neck of the Englishman. His ploy worked and Sherlock, already quite horny and happy with his lover and relaxed after coming this hard, began to soften his stance already. “I am on your side Jimmy,” he said, “I just want to ensure I am not alone in this. Do you not like me or want me anymore? Is it even okay if I stay here, in this flat? Just tell me already.”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Jim took the opportunity to launch his speech, “Of course I want you. What were we doing just now? Did it seem like I didn’t?”

 

Sherlock went on the backfoot, “No, I mean to say….”

 

“What? With our kind of work and commitments we will be apart from some time now and then. If you don’t trust me and suspect my motives then we are never going to be happy.”

 

“No Jimmy, I meant that…..”

 

“Do you not realize that things like this, relationships I mean, take some time to develop. And it’s okay to give things time, it’s okay to give each other time. Why rush when none of us are going anywhere? As soon as we are sure, as soon as we are committed, our families and friends will get to know about us. If you have an ego thing going with Mycroft then keep me out of that game. I don’t want you to use my name to get back at him in any way.”

 

Sherlock was dismayed, “Is that how it came across to you?”

 

Jim pouted, “You tell me.”

 

“Well, that was not the intention, so I am sorry.”

 

“Mycroft will know when he needs to know, not before. We have known each other for only two or three months Sherly…..”

 

“Three and half.”

 

“All right, so be it. But still it’s not enough time to know each other completely. I don’t want to act in haste and then repent in leisure. It’s a matter of our entire lives Sherl, let’s not act like teenagers with huge crushes on each other.”

 

Sherlock was so well convinced by then that he even felt a bit ashamed of himself. “Maybe I was being too possessive,” he whispered.

 

Deep down he knew he had a terrible secret to guard. His brother and he had been in an incestuous relationship for a long time, a relationship not known to anyone, not even their parents. They said, those that stay in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones at others and now was the time to follow that proverb. He did want Jim to reveal their relationship, he did have insecurities about Mycroft winning Jim’s heart and walking off into the sunset with him, but who was he to demand anything when he had so much to hide? Would he come clean about his feelings for Mycroft, about their past, should Jim ask him to do so?

 

“Hey,” Jim kissed his forehead, “Don’t get so serious over this.”

 

“No, not serious,” Sherlock said, “Just thinking.”

 

“Aaand what is my Sherly thinking?”

 

“Whether we’ll wake up at dawn for a quickie!”

 

“Horndog.”

 

“Guilty as charged.”

 

They kissed and exchanged lazy lingering kisses till Sherlock started to doze. Jim was stroking his face and hairs in a manner that never failed to send him to sleep. During their magical time together at Dubai Jim used to do this to him whenever he was too high strung or too worried about their project to sleep. A few minutes of those magical strokes through his hairs and some careful and gentle pressure on his scalp and things would blur and sounds would fade. He’d sleep and dream of Jim, of their happy times together, of a possible happy future.

 

Him and Jim on an Alpine trek, seeing the northern lights, visiting Antarctica.

 

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep. Once relaxed and sunk into repose, he slept heavily. He didn’t realize that Jim moved from his arms after nine or ten minutes, pushing a pillow into it instead and placing a chaste and asexual kiss to his lips. He didn’t hear the Irishman dress and get into his slippers. He didn’t feel the bed getting empty, then the room, then the door shutting as Jim left.

 

He just saw Antarctica in his dreams. Penguins, snow, igloos, starry skies, loads of hot coffee and Scotch. And Jim.

 

***

 

Mycroft was having a staring match with his umbrella.

 

His mother’s words echoed in his ears. _“You are becoming the typical Victorian English gent Myc. Cultured, moneyed, well-read and well-connected but with zero sense of tact and affections when it comes to relationships. How about choosing someone to spend your life with? Or else, you’d be sleeping next to your umbrella for the rest of your life! We won’t be there forever, what happens to you if you don’t find someone appropriate. I worry for you son.”_

 

Jim’s behavior had hurt him a bit. He had expected his lover to simply tell Sherlock they were together now and naturally shared a bed and a room, but Jim had chosen silence over the truth and more or less made him lie to his brother. Concealing the truth was akin to telling a lie and Mycroft felt disappointed at the way things had turned out. While Sherlock’s intrusion into their lives and this flat was disturbing, what was more unsettling was the fact that someone as fearless and unconventional as Jim was actually wary of Sherlock. Why? Why was that? Mycroft wondered if Jim had something to hide just as Sherlock and he had something to hide as well.

 

He was close to confessing to his young lover that he had been in an incestuous relationship with his kid brother for the past fourteen years. Such was his trust on Jim that he didn’t even feel the need to consult Sherlock about that. But now he didn’t know if Jim would even be interested in hearing the truth.

 

Worse still, what if Jim didn’t even care about the truth? Or about him?

 

“Mikey?”

 

“James?”

 

Mycroft couldn’t stop the grin from breaking out all over his face. Jim was standing at the doorway, looking sleepy and rubbing his eyes.

 

“C’mere you!” Mycroft lifted one side of the covers and pointed at the bed, “You’re falling asleep on your feet.”

 

While Jim obediently got in, Mycroft watched him fondly and forgot all about his earlier misgivings and disappointments. All he wanted to do now was hold Jim in his arms. Even sex didn’t seem important. What was important was to have Jim in his arms!

 

“Owww,” Jim yelped and then sneered at him, “What is this fucking umbrella doing here?”

 

“I have named it James,” Mycroft shut and bolted the door and got into bed beside his lover, “So I can talk to it when you’re not around.”

 

Jim giggled, “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah,” Mycroft took him in his arms, “Mmmmhhh!”

 

By now he had stopped feeling any shock or surprise at how easily Jim aroused him or made him a slave to desire. So far he had been craving for his Irish lover’s presence and the satisfaction of holding him in his arms but, seconds after doing so, now he had begun to want him. Jim felt so warm and pliant, so sexy and sensuous, that his body was like a Viagra boost to Mycroft’s cock. He wanted to fuck him nice and slow while he spooned him in bed, let their coupling continue till none of them knew where one began and the other ended. Within seconds he had stiffened completely, his balls felt incredibly heavy and couldn’t hold back the moan that came out of his mouth.

 

“Someone is harrrd,” Jim purred.

 

“May I?” Mycroft asked eagerly, hoping the answer was yes.

 

“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah!”

 

“Let me prepare you.”

“Played with myself a bit. Just do it Mikey.”

 

Mycroft slicked up his aching, leaking cock and pushed inside his lover after pulling down Jim’s pants to his knees and pushing down his own pajama bottom. At first a loud groan left him but soon his brows knotted into a frown. The way Jim’s body opened up to take him in was enough indication that he had not just played with himself, he had experienced intrusion a while ago. Was that because of a dildo or a vibrator up his arse or because someone had been inside him?

 

But then Jim pushed back and moaned and all reason escaped the head of Mycroft Holmes.

 

He fucked Jim nice and slow, slowly forgetting his concerns and worries about Jim’s relaxed passage and the slippery feeling inside it. All he remembered was that he had feelings for Jim, serious and deep feelings that would never go away in this life. If Jim left him he’d die.

 

Even if he lived, he’d never love or trust again. Jim had made him useless for all the other men in this world, including Sherlock.

 

He kept fucking and Jim kept muffling his moans in the pillow till a point of no return approached. At that moment Jim grabbed Mycroft’s hand and guided it to his cock, letting him stroke him to completion.

 

When they came, they were so exhausted and sated that they fell asleep still joined together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim's truth will be revealed soon. Sorry about the delayed updates on this one. This plot is running off in all directions and I am trying to rein the characters in.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things come to an end, or at least a screeching halt.

Jim woke up at ten the next morning to find himself alone in bed. Mycroft being Mycroft, he had woken up at his usual time and was probably cooking breakfast. He could smell bacon and eggs, coffee and toast. His stomach growled and his bladder felt a pinch and a twinge.

 

Then he remembered Sherlock.

 

This double life was not going to be easy at all. He knew he was playing with fire but hadn’t thought that things would come to this point so early on. There were six and half more months to go for this project at Dubai and already the Holmes siblings were on the verge of discovering the terrible web of lies Jim had created. He was about to get caught. _Not good, not good at all Jim, you had to either play it safe or lead them to that source which planted you in their lives. You were either supposed to do the job or bail out of here without worrying about the consequences. You weren’t supposed to be in love, you were not supposed to fall for any of them. Stupid, silly, moron….._

“Shut up,” he yelled as he placed his hands over his ears.

 

After a quick trip to the bathroom and brushing his teeth, Jim headed for Sherlock’s bedroom first. To his utter relief he saw Sherlock still asleep, one long arm dangling off the edge of the bed and his face mashed into a pillow as he lay half on his side and half on his front.

 

Jim quickly kissed his cheek and tucked the arm under the blankets. “Hey,” he whispered, “Sherlylocks, wake up.”

 

“Hmmmmfff?”

 

“It’s past ten.”

 

“WHAT?”

 

Sherlock jumped up to a sitting position. “Why didn’t someone fucking wake me up? I had a meeting at this hour.”

 

Jim made a face, “Because you’re at Mycroft’s house and he has only one help. His housekeeper comes in five days a week and that too around midday. If you want to wake up on time use an alarm.”

 

“Yeah,” Sherlock pulled him closer, kissing him distractedly on the temple, “You’re right. Hey, those hickeys, the ones I gave you right?”

 

Jim winked, “Take a guess.”

 

“Sorry babe,” Sherlock revealed his morning wood, “I need to take care of it by myself because I gotta rush to work. I can’t afford to miss the next meeting at noon and it’s almost an hour’s drive from here to the client’s facility.”

 

“That’s okay,” Jim said with a smile as he watched Sherlock rush to the bathroom and almost lose his foothold for a moment, “Tonight we can square up. See you later.”

 

***

 

Mycroft had never felt so happy in his life. Waking up with Jim’s face inches from his own was just the sort of life he wanted to lead. Things would start with Jim and end with Jim, begin with Jim and conclude with Jim. If Jim was around things seemed brighter and happier and he felt alive. If he wasn’t to be seen anywhere Mycroft felt like he was punished to a dull, dreary existence. He didn’t even feel alive during those moments, days. The older Holmes sibling chopped fruits and wondered how Jim would react to being brought breakfast in bed. Would he feel pampered or would he feel annoyed at being woken up?

 

“Good morning.”

 

The familiar soft Irish lilt made him smile and sigh at the same time, smile because he loved hearing Jim’s voice and sigh because Jim was awake and so breakfast in bed was no longer an option. Maybe another day! Mycroft turned and beckoned out to Jim to come closer. “Good morning beautiful,” he said as he noticed Jim sniffing the air for the delicious aroma, “I prepared some bacon, soft poached eggs, Hollandaise sauce, grilled bell peppers, fried tomato and buttered toast. There is also coffee and tea and fresh juice, to wash it all down with.”

 

“You’re spoiling me,” Jim walked closer and hugged Mycroft. It felt good, secure, satiating. _How could a hug, a mere embrace, feel this good?_

 

“Spoiling you is my privilege,” Mycroft picked up a ringlet of bell pepper and gently held Jim’s right hand. With a smug smile he slid the ringlet of bell pepper on Jim’s long and slender finger and kissed the knuckle.

 

“With a bell pepper ring?” Jim began to laugh.

 

 _Someday there will be a real ring Jim, at least let me declare our relationship to my family_. “I’d like to buy you something nice,” Mycroft shook the thoughts off his mind and turned his attention back to the pan, “It’s your birthday next month, isn’t it?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Jim said, “But you already got me a car. I don’t need any more gifts. It makes me uncomfortable.”

 

“Very well then, what can I do for your birthday?”

 

“Can I ask for anything I want?”

 

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

 

“In that case I just want you to understand me, believe me and trust me,” Jim hauled himself up on the counter and swung his legs from side to side, biting down on his bottom lip, “Last evening and night I did notice that you weren’t too happy that I chose a different bedroom instead of simply walking into yours. I know you were especially disappointed that I didn’t let Sherlock know that we are together now. I understand your confusion and dismay, trust me in your place I would have been appalled and thrown a tantrum…..but there is a good reason I held my tongue last evening. It was just not the right time or day for us to ‘declare’ anything.”

 

Mycroft poured Jim a cup of coffee and some tea for himself. Being a mature man, he had already begun to see the logic behind Jim’s behavior but he still wanted his lover to explain, to say things in his own words. “Go on James,” he said, “Let’s see if our reasons match or not.”

 

To his surprise, Jim said, “You tell me and I will confirm or deny.”

 

“Wait, why?”

 

“I know what I have to say. I just want to understand if you have read my body language and my eyes properly and interpreted my silent message.”

 

“Hmmm,” Mycroft smiled, “Test for me.”

 

“Moment of truth,” Jim said chirpily.

 

“You didn’t want to hasten up things simply because my bro decided to live with us. I also felt you were taken aback by Sherlock’s behavior and wanted to hold back on any information.”

 

“Good, what else?”

 

“Before Sherlock gets to know about us, we will tell him ourselves. However, that day of revelation was not yesterday. Call it a gut feel or whatever it may, but after witnessing a less than pleasant exchange between us two Holmes brothers nobody would blame you from holding back on such a big piece of news.”

 

“Spot on,” Jim said, eyes shining with pride, “You are becoming a bit of a mind reader.”

 

“Then let’s read your mind right now,” Mycroft said, “Hmmm, I can hear your mind having monologues inside your head. Should I eat the sauce or not, or should I just go for the healthier option of chopped fruits, should I tell Sherlock tonight or maybe next week. And oh yeah…..You’re also probably debating whether we’d go out for dinner tonight or order in pizza and watch football on television.”

 

Jim was beaming by then. He was charmed by Mycroft’s compatibility with him, the flawless way the older man read his thoughts and how easily he fitted into Jim’s life.

 

They suddenly heard a crashing sound from another room and Mycroft groaned. “Sorry love,” he said, putting his hand on Jim’s head, “That must be Sherlock. I’ll go and check what’s going on there. My brother can be quite distracted and clumsy and can easily end up hurting himself.”

 

Jim’s smile faded, along with the happiness in his heart. As he watched Mycroft walk out and soon heard the two brothers arguing, then pulling each other’s leg, then taunting each other, it occurred to him that he was being happy for no reason. He had not visited the Holmes family on his own, never mind the friendship their parents had shared a long time ago. He was happily living in New York City and then in Las Vegas when he had been instructed to return to London. He had been planted there, in the Holmes family and the Holmes company, for a very specific reason. The moment anybody in the family got even a whiff of what he was really up to, he was done for. At worst he’d be jailed and at best he would be tossed out on his backside.

 

Pulling out his cell phone he paused, correcting his mistake at the last moment. Right, not from this phone, never from this phone or this sim card.

 

He put away the iPhone X and pulled out the simpler, comparatively obscure Xiaomi and started typing a text.

 

_What if I agree to your first proposal and stop this work immediately – JM_

 

Once he had hit the ‘send’ button, he stared at the device through unblinking eyes, holding his breath as he waited for the reply to his message to arrive. It took about five minutes for the reply to land on his phone and when he opened the message, it was ominous in both its content and its tone.

 

_You took a long time to agree to my first proposal. Timing is important. In this case the time to say a ‘yes’ has passed. Stick to the job is what I would suggest, for your sake, for everybody’s sake – CM_

 

Jim exhaled.

 

There was no way out.

 

***

 

For the next month, Jim led a dual life.

 

He spent the first part of the night with Mycroft and once Mycroft slept he went to spend time with night-owl Sherlock who waited for him patiently. While neither of the brothers knew what was really going on, they had more or less understood that Jim had a certain closeness with both of them and there was no way they could make him stop that just because they were at loggerheads mostly with each other. Somehow the concept of someone as sweet and wonderful as Jim cheating on them was alien to the Holmes brothers and none of them even attempted to delve in further into Jim’s sudden absences.

 

For Jim it was tiring and draining but he knew he had to keep up the façade. The dark secret he nurtured was beginning to eat him from the inside but he gritted his teeth and labored on, eyes on the prize all the time. Still, guilt crept up on him from time to time and he started to look for ways out of this mess. True, he would be hurting bad for some time, maybe he’d never love again, but at least that way he wouldn’t be the harbinger of destruction in the Holmes family. That had never been his intention, nor had he ever imagined the so called ‘snooty snobbish posh’ family to actually have a heart.

 

When Jim lay in Mycroft’s arms and listened to classics like Elvis’ ‘Can’t help falling in love with you’ or Sinatra’s ‘Strangers in the night’, he felt like he belonged there. Those assuring arms holding him, that polished smooth voice singing along, those lips planting soft kisses on his head. He never wanted to let go. But then whenever he was with the younger brother he felt a certain closeness and happiness with him too. As Sherlock and he watched spy thrillers on the laptop, naked and entwined under the covers, he couldn’t imagine hurting this man ever. He could hold Sherlock harder, making him groan and say ‘Jimmy, you’ll break my ribs man!’

 

“Yeah, but I’ll never break your heart,” Jim would murmur back.

 

“If you do,” Sherlock would pout, “I’ll jump off the rooftop of some building.”

 

One early morning though, things came to a near ‘fatal’ point. Jim had as usual had sex with Mycroft, waited in silence till the elder Holmes sibling fell asleep, and then gone to join Sherlock around midnight. A very horny Sherlock had kept him aroused for nearly two and half hours and made him cum so many times that Jim had passed out without even realizing it. When he woke up, he could hear someone knocking on the door insistently. The light filtering in through the drapes made him sit up bolt upright in bed and glance nervously at the clock.

 

Damn! It was nine. He had overslept.

 

“Sherlock? Sherlock wake up for Christ’s sake. Have you heard from James? He is missing. He’s left his phone behind.”

 

Shit, Mycroft was awake and had checked for him throughout the apartment. Obviously his phone was still in his own room, which he hardly ever used for sleeping.

 

“Shit-shit-shit,” he gripped his head and held his breath, a thousand thoughts running through it at the same time. How to escape from this situation? Just how?

 

Sherlock fortunately was sleeping soundly and those knocks had not woken him up. At least, not yet. But soon they would.

 

Jim looked at the window. Yes, that was the only way. Dangerous, life-threatening, but the only way to escape unscathed from his situation.

 

***

 

Sherlock paced up and down in the hallway while Mycroft made half a dozen phone calls to enquire about Jim. Neither of the brothers knew he had been in bed with both the night before so Mycroft assumed he might have hurt Jim in some way and made him leave while Sherlock feared he had gone overboard and hurt Jim physically, thereby pushing him away. None could openly confess their guilt so they tried to cover it all up by showing excessive emotions in a different way. Mycroft yelled and growled at people over the phone, including the cops, while Sherlock yelled at Mycroft as he paced around in circles.

 

The front door opened and both brothers rushed to see who it was. Maybe Jim was back.

 

But no, instead of Jim there stood the security officer of the building. A big, burly man with a walrus mustache and a stern expression on his face. “Your boyfriend is asleep in the car downstairs,” he said in his rumbling baritone, looking straight at Sherlock, “I tried to wake him up but I can’t. If I were you I’d break the glass and extract him but that’s not my car, or my man, so I thought I’d check with you first. Is he all right? Or is it a domestic fight I have tangled myself into sir?”

 

Mycroft’s brows lowered. Something about this interaction gave him a weirdly uncomfortable feeling. But his worries about Jim overrode the silent question at the back of his mind.

 

“In the car?” Sherlock was already out of the door, barefoot, “I hope he is fine.”

 

All three of them reached the car and, true to what walrus mustache had said, Jim was folded up and asleep in the backseat. He was wearing his sleep pants and T shirt, the same things he had worn the night before.

 

“No need to smash it,” Sherlock said, “I’ll wake him up.”

 

He hammered hard on the body of the car and shook it with all his strength. It worked better than the taps on the window and people calling out his name and Jim Moriarty was shaken out of his slumber within a few seconds. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around in shock.

 

“Open the door,” Mycroft came forward, “James for the love of God open the door.”

 

Jim unlocked it and stepped out. For a second everyone was quiet and unsure about how to handle this obviously bewildering situation. Then Jim stepped into Mycroft’s arms and sighed.

 

“I knew this would happen again,” he said.

 

“What? What would happen?” Mycroft asked eagerly.

 

“I….I sleep walk sometimes, when I am overworked or stressed out,” Jim replied, reaching out for Sherlock and giving him a friendly hug of assurance, “I am fine now. Nothing hurt except for my ankle. I must have twisted it sometime during the night.” That was a lie of course. Jim had risked his life climbing out of the window, then walking on the parapet, then grabbing a pipe and climbing down all the way to the second floor, then jumping on to the grass below. At that final landing point he had twisted his ankle badly but kept the sounds of distress inside. Quietly, discreetly he had gone to the car and climbed in, glad he kept the key in a flower-tub close by. An episode of somnambulism was his only alibi for the near-disaster of that day.

 

“I’ll carry you upstairs,” the security officer offered, “In the meanwhile sir, please call a doctor.”

 

***

 

Jim slept the whole day that day, mainly because he had been given a strong sedative and an equally strong pain killer by the visiting physician.

 

The doctor put a plaster on his foot and asked him to stay at home and put minimum pressure on that foot for at least a week. He could work or take calls, but only from home. No office or going out anywhere till the next check happened.

 

In a way his injury worked in Jim’s favor and he slept in his own room, often attended by Mycroft or by Sherlock who took turns to look after him. Mummy Holmes dropped by every alternate day with enough food for them to eat three meals a day and not order in. One of the days daddy Holmes also dropped in, bringing a housekeeper with him so she could do their laundry and vacuuming. It was like being part of the family and Jim didn’t know whether to be upset or ecstatic.

 

 _Whatever it is, I need to take some action soon. And it’s only I who can take that. I can’t let Mycroft or Sherlock get involved here._ Therefore, after a week had passed and Jim’s plaster had come off, the Irishman requested both Holmes brothers to have dinner with him that night. “I’ll cook,” he said, “I am tired of just eating, sleeping and checking my emails. I need to be a bit mobile, so no arguments.”

 

There was a nice ham and pineapple salad with lettuce and some boiled eggs thrown in, farfalle with beef ragu and some ice cream for dessert. Dessert was the only thing that had been ordered in, everything else Jim had managed to cook despite his stiff leg and slight limp.

 

But the obvious joy Mycroft and Sherlock felt disappeared when Jim made a shocking revelation, shortly after they had toasted Jim’s recovery with some fine red wine.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim decides to leave. The Holmes boys start to break.

“I need to go to Dubai and finish the project, on my own.”

 

The last three words made Sherlock drop his dessert spoon with a loud clang while Mycroft, who was sipping his wine, nearly upset the contents of the stemmed glass on to the sleeve of his pristine shirt. “Pardon me?” Mycroft asked, eyes widening.

 

Sherlock looked ferocious, green eyes blazing and flashing fire. Jim didn’t back off though, seemingly unperturbed by Sherlock’s aggression and Mycroft’s obvious bewilderment and shock. “I came here for work and I am very grateful to have received it,” Jim said, voice steady and gaze focused on the Holmes brothers, “Your father entrusted me to an important task and I feel I have been slacking in my duties there. As the architect and engineer it’s my job to be on site and concentrate 100% of my efforts into completing it successfully. Therefore I have decided to leave for Dubai on Monday and stay there for the next four months, until the inauguration of the bridge.”

 

“How can you just decide this on your own?” Sherlock snapped.

 

“Sherlock quiet,” Mycroft intervened, “Let me talk to him.”

 

“Don’t shush me. I have a right to know too.”

 

“You will. We can’t solve anything by reacting.”

 

“I am not reacting. Jim is reacting and you’re excluding me, like always.”

 

“Please both of you, quiet,” Jim raised his voice. The two men stopped, taken aback by the tone. Once he had their attention Jim quickly changed his tone, softening it considerably but still keeping it firm, “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude but it’s important for all of us that we take a wise decision here, leaving aside all emotions, attachments and frivolities. While I cherish my friendship with you and I want to spend more time with you, it’s going to have to wait till the completion of this project.”

 

Sherlock didn’t say a word. He simply got up and left the table without touching his dessert.

 

Jim sighed and looked down at the floor. _So it’s started. But I have to stand my ground._

 

Mycroft was half way through his ice cream and while he loved desserts, his mouth had a bitter aftertaste right now, too bitter for him to enjoy anything sweet. He too pushed his dessert plate away and picked up his napkin. “That was unexpected, weird even,” he said in a tight voice.

 

 _He is at least being a little mature about it._ Jim felt a bit better than a moment ago and decided to handle Sherlock later. First, he needed Mycroft on his side. He would be easier to convince.

 

He hadn’t realized how wrong he was.

 

“It’s not so weird when you see the bigger picture,” Jim said, “We are not behind schedule but he are barely making the milestones. We haven’t baked in any contingency so if something goes wrong it won’t take more than a day for us to screw up the schedule completely. We need to be in touch with the local authorities and that’s not been happening regularly. We know how things work on goodwill there. I have a report that states supervisors are reporting late to work and leaving early and it’s comfortably slipping under our radar. Do you deny any of these glitches and possible pitfalls?”

 

“No, I don’t, and I have to admit I am deeply ashamed that we didn’t notice this sooner,” Mycroft said smoothly, reaching out to take Jim’s hand in his own, “But there is no need for a knee-jerk reaction to it. See, I have proper backup here and my delegated tasks get done by my next-in-command with 99% of the expertise I display. More or less, the same quality is maintained. What we could do baby cakes is that…..well, we get engaged and set up our base at Dubai for the next year or two. In a few months we can have a destination wedding, say in Abu Dhabi, and we live the first couple of years of our married life in the Middle East. I could get us more business there and you can complete your project without having to shuttle between Dubai and London.”

 

Jim gritted his teeth. This was going to be tougher than he thought.

 

“Mikey, we don’t do these things in a hurry,” he said.

 

“Define ‘these things’,” Mycroft smiled.

 

“Engagement, marriage,” Jim was appalled. He was seriously flattered and his heart was swelling with emotions but he knew the price he would have to pay in case he accepted this proposal. Not just him but Mycroft, Sherlock, their parents and _someone else_.

 

“I have the ring,” Mycroft took a box out of his pocket, “I got it yesterday. Look baby cakes, a wedding is about two people, not the whole society, family or mankind. Why do we need to complicate matters when we can get things done the simple, straightforward way? You and I need to decide on a date and we need a ring, a priest and a registrar. Oh yes, we also need two witnesses and I am sure that’s the least of our problems.”

 

“Mikey why don’t you understand?” Jim groaned.

 

“Look at the ring, matching ones for us,” Mycroft showed him the contents of the box.

 

The rings were indeed elegant and very attractive. Made of white gold with a thin strip of dull yellow running through the middle, the bands were of hammered finish and encrusted with the finest quality diamonds. On one side they had the intertwined initials of their names – M&J.

 

Mycroft was about to go down on one knee to propose when Jim grabbed his arm and stopped him. “No Mike, please don’t.”

 

For the first time Mycroft realized Jim was really not into the conversation or this idea. He straightened his back and asked, “You really don’t want this? But you had never treated this relationship as anything frivolous or temporary. Or did I read it all wrong?”

 

Jim lost it at that point. “Mycroft Holmes, please listen to me. I never said I was not serious but I never said I want commitment in the form of a ring. Not so soon. Why are we getting our priorities mixed up? I am going nowhere, neither are you, then why do we need to hurry and have a crazy-arse rushed wedding and shift base to Dubai? I have just had my house refurbished in London and I intend to live there. I have no intentions of setting up long term residence in Dubai or anywhere in the Middle East. I just want to do a good job for your company and enhance my CV, get a good recommendation from our clients, that’s all. Is that too much to ask for?”

 

“James, I just don’t want you to be alone there for months. Wouldn’t you miss me as well?”

 

“Oh Mycroft, why don’t you understand?”

 

“Oh yes, I think I do.”

 

“Mikey I…..”

 

Mycroft slipped the ring box into his pocket and the mask on his face went up immediately, creating a wall around him that nobody would be able to penetrate. “Thanks for dinner,” he said as he got up from the table, “I respect your decision, even though that’s not what I want. Sorry I must have expected more from you than you were willing to give. Do you need any help with the dishes?”

 

Jim felt a lump in his throat. “No, I can manage.”

 

“Of course, I forgot,” Mycroft said softly, “You don’t need anyone. You are a one-man army all by yourself.”

 

There were a thousand things Jim wanted to say but he made no move to stop Mycroft. Whatever he said would backfire or just create unnecessary confusion and misunderstanding. His work was done. Mycroft was aligned to his decision.

 

Now he had to ensure Sherlock agreed as well.

 

***

 

“NO.”

 

“But Sherly….”

 

“I said no and my decision stands,” Sherlock stood over Jim who was sitting on a chair, the tall Englishman looming over him with his face flushed with anger, “What the hell is wrong with you Jimmy? Why this sudden change and a demand to be alone for four fucking months? FOUR FUCKING MONTHS? If it was a matter of a week or two or even up to a month I could have just said ‘go ahead’. But this is way too much, it’s like you’re eager to get rid of me. Tell me the truth, am I boring you? Have you started to get tired of me already and you don’t wanna say that upfront? Is there someone else? Because if there is, just tell me already. I am a big guy, I can take it.”

 

Jim felt cold sweat break out at the back of his neck. To mask him guilt he put on a mask of being hurt. “Great,” he said, “Now you’ll accuse me of cheating.”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“Sorry, but that’s how it came across.”

 

“Don’t be obtuse Sherlock.”

 

“On the other hand, I have been obtuse for the past few months. I thought you actually cared about me, you wanted me, you liked my company. If you were primarily just a career man and wanted to do a good job then why did you mislead me? Why did you draw me out of my shell when I was more than comfortable inside it? Just so you can kick me back into the shell again?”

 

“Rubbish,” Jim snapped, “Enough with the emotional bullshit already.”

 

Sherlock looked so hurt and shocked that Jim almost cringed. He turned away and said, “I liked a confident, independent, fun guy. Not some needy whiner who can’t even trust his boyfriend enough to let go for four months. For everything you said, I have a counter allegation for you. Maybe you don’t trust me, you think I am a cheat and a liar, perhaps that’s why you can’t let me stay on my own in Dubai. Or is it that you think I am incapable? That I would need one of the Holmes brothers to baby sit me for the project?”

 

It worked. Sherlock looked confused and a tad bit on the backfoot. “I never meant anything like that,” Sherlock said.

 

“If you’re there I will get distracted,” Jim said gently this time, “I won’t be able to do a good job. I am doing all of this because I have integrity.” He paused, realizing that he was indeed telling the truth this time, “I am doing this for you, me, for all of us. Four months is all I am asking for.”

 

After a prolonged silence Sherlock begrudgingly replied, “All right, fine, I am okay with this.”

 

***

 

Mycroft lay in bed with Jim in his arms, the younger man’s head on his chest and their legs tangled together under the sheets. His eyes were closed but he was as awake as Jim was. As he felt Jim shift for the twentieth time in ten minutes, he sighed and kissed the top of those dark hairs. “Can’t sleep, is it?” When Jim didn’t respond he snickered softly and said, “Shall we fornicate?”

 

Jim couldn’t keep the chuckle inside. He let it out and looked up at Mycroft’s face with a wicked expression on his face. “You mean we should fuck?”

 

Mycroft rolled them over and planted a kiss on Jim’s chin, then slowly dragged his lips on to Jim’s lips. They kissed hard at first, then more gently, while Jim shucked off his shorts and wrapped his legs around Mycroft’s middle. The feel of his warm groin and the hardening cock made Mycroft groan with pleasure and he quickly pushed down his pajamas mid-thigh and started to grind their erections together. At first Jim convulsed with pleasure but soon it was too less for his likes. “Please,” he parted his legs further, “Please Mikey make love to me. Please fuck me, fornicate, do whatever you wish.”

 

“With pleasure,” Mycroft whispered and grabbed the lube.

 

In barely five minutes he had Jim all prepped and open and was pushing inside the man slowly, making him moan and gasp and pant and leave sharp scratches on his back. The shooting pain mingled with the extreme pleasure he felt as he slid inside Jim, his lover’s delicious tight heat taking his breath away for a few seconds.

 

Jim always took his breath away.

 

He began to move but unlike their earlier times, his ecstasy was mingled with a dollop of sadness. He was going to miss this for four months but that wasn’t what bothered him so much. He was just not prepared to wake up alone or not have Jim to come back home to. He had become so used to Jim that he needed the man just like he needed food, water and oxygen. It was going to be tough.

 

“Don’t think,” Jim rasped out as he stroked himself in rhythm with Mycroft’s thrusts, “Feel.”

 

“Sorry,” Mycroft confessed, a bit embarrassed.

 

“I love you Mike,” Jim whispered.

 

Mycroft closed his eyes and absorbed the moment in every possible way. The feel of that body sliding against his, the hot snug channel that closed tightly around him, those whispered words floating into his ears, the scent of their combined arousal, he committed everything to memory.

 

When Jim came, he took Mycroft with him. Their joint orgasm was not noisy and exuberant but quiet and lingering and the two men savored it for the longest possible time before Mycroft finally slipped out. Both of them sighed with satisfaction but felt the sudden break of their ‘connection’. To compensate, they stayed in that position for a long time.

 

Post coital exhaustion sent Jim to sleep but it took quite a while for Mycroft to follow suit. He just kept looking at Jim and thinking. Some strange thoughts and fears were circulating in his head but he didn’t dare voice them aloud. He didn’t want to lose Jim.

 

***

 

Sherlock was sure he could forgive Jim a murder right at this moment. So enamored and overwhelmed was he at the sight of Jim riding him that he could have pardoned the man any crime or committed any crime for his sake. In the semi-darkened room Jim looked like a nymph, a magical creature with unearthly gorgeous looks, bouncing up and down and moving back and forth on Sherlock’s rock-hard cock. His dark lustrous locks bounced along with his movement and obscured part of his face while his hard, straining erection slapped repeatedly against Sherlock’s abs, creating quite the symphony along with other sounds of flesh slapping together.

 

“D-Don’t cum yet,” Jim moaned out the words, “I-I need to….just a bit longer.”

 

Thanks to the cock-ring Sherlock wore, he wasn’t worried about premature ejaculation. This was their make-up sex before Jim left for Dubai and both men wanted to make the most of it. Sherlock hated to fight with Jim and after two days of silence between them he couldn’t hold off any longer. Jim was also eager to reunite and with the first opportunity they had, they had jumped into bed together. Sherlock reached out and touched as much of Jim as he could, committing every inch of that exposed skin to his memory. Four months, four bloody months apart. This was crazy.

 

“Sherly….Sher…..God…..nowwww.”

 

“Uhnnn…..lemme….”

 

Jim nodded and reached behind to snap off the cock ring while Sherlock used both his hands on Jim’s cock, jerking him hard as the man moved towards a climax. In a matter of moments, he had cum and so had Jim, warmth splashing out inside Jim and on Sherlock.

 

Hearts beating almost out of their ribcages, they collapsed in a heap on the bed. Sherlock beneath, Jim partially beside him and partially on top of him.

 

“Sleep here tonight?” Sherlock asked hopefully.

 

“Of course,” Jim yawned, “I can’t even think of moving.”

 

After a brief cleanup, they cuddled down together under the covers. Sherlock felt Jim spoon him and it felt so warm, comfortable and lulling that his eyes closed on their own. But somehow sleep eluded him. Even though he was sweetly drained and dozy, his brain refused to shut down and allow him the slumber he needed. Several uneasy thoughts ran through his head, conflicting ideas clashed and weird emotions poked at his heart. He’d never felt like this before.

 

Almost twenty minutes later his brain exploded with realization! He was in love. Yes, he was in love. This was love. This had to be love!!!

 

What else explained why he felt so despondent about Jim being half the world away somewhere else? In today’s world distances didn’t matter so much. People could see each other on Skype or Facetime and talk to each other, send WhatsApp messages anytime they wished. Whatever Jim had asked for wasn’t so difficult or long, four months would surely come and go before they even realized it. Still, Sherlock felt dread fill him to the brim whenever he imagined a life without Jim being around. To go to sleep without holding Jim in his arms, how the fuck was he supposed to sleep? His old insomnia problems would start all over again.

 

“Sleep Sherly.”

 

The soft voice was followed by softer touches to his scalp and hairs and this time Sherlock slid into the land of nod before he had even realized that he was drifting.

 

***

 

_Can I count on the job being done on time – CM_

_Yes. The date stands – JM_

_You are still in London – CM_

_Is that any of your business – JM_

_I suppose it is. Also, I sent you to the Holmes. Didn’t you figure out that I would also send someone to help you, if needed – CM_

_Help me or spy on me – JM_

_Both – CM_

_I don’t like being spied upon and I do not need any help whatsoever, so please ask this moll of yours to go fuck himself – JM_

_Just get the job done and all will be well again Jim, I promise - CM_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is incest in the forthcoming chapters - Just a warning


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers console each other but relief is temporary, sadness is permanent. In the meantime, Jim closes in on his mission.

Sherlock couldn’t hold it back anymore. So unsettled had he been for some time that a relapse was absolutely imminent and this time he had no particular reason to stop himself from the deed. Jim was not taking his calls, he hadn’t spoken to the man in a month and half and now he couldn’t even go back to Mycroft for the much-needed release. The only way out was to either stick a needle into his arm or snort some cocaine.

 

Deciding to go with cocaine first, he made three thin lines of powder on the parchment sheet and snorted half of it up, sniffling and taking deep raspy breaths, before bending down for more. But before he could complete the process, two strong hands grabbed him.

 

“Let me goooo, fuck you, get away from me,” he yelled and tried to free himself but those hands only held him tighter. In no time the powder, the sheet, the small bag where he had stored more powder and everything else on the coffee table were roughly shoved aside and scattered all over the floor, rendering them useless. Furious, upset, unstable, Sherlock fought back as hard as he could and suddenly found himself on top of Mycroft, holding the latter down by the throat. He gasped and pulled back, horror written all over his face. Never had he hit his elder brother before. He didn’t even have a clue that with time he had actually become stronger than Myc.

 

“I….um….” he tottered to his feet, staggered over to a chair and collapsed on it, one hand on his forehead, “I….why were you?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mycroft got to his feet and gave Sherlock a death-glare, “Back to your cocaine habits? Where is the cooked heroin and the other thing you used to take, what was the name again?”

 

“Same,” Sherlock said in a small voice, “Intravenous.”

 

“Shame on you Lockie. What would mummy say?”

 

“Is it going to be very hard for you to listen to an honest answer?”

 

“No, try me then.”

 

“I don’t care what she thinks or daddy says or you feel. It’s me who is going through hell and there’s no way things are going to get any better anytime soon. I am doomed, fucking doomed. Please, just let me die in peace.”

 

“How utterly defeatist,” Mycroft went to a cabinet top where he had kept a tray, shortly returning with two bottles of glucose water and two steaming cups of strong coffee, “Since you haven’t taken a good dose of that white idiocy inside your system yet, there is a good chance we consider this an anomaly and not a relapse. Let me check your nose, heartbeat and pupils, hold still Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock kept muttering and cursing while Mycroft checked and once done and satisfied that he had interrupted Sherlock before he could really do any damage to himself, the elder sibling handed him one of the bottles and ordered ‘drink’.

 

Sherlock scowled but obeyed, sighing deeply when the slightly flavored cool liquid soothed a stinging burn inside him. He was feeling a bit high but not too much and his nose was itchy but not runny yet. Disaster averted, his rational mind worked partially made him feel rather foolish about what he had just done. His memory did flip-flops and side skids and he felt disoriented for a few minutes. Why had he suddenly weakened so much that he ha to lapse into those habits? Oh yeah, he remembered now! As he took his first sip of the hot and strong black coffee, he felt a near-crippling anger bubble up inside him. Jim. It was Jim’s fault for dumping him and taking off to Dubai, making him promise not to follow and then slowly stopping all sorts of communication with him.

 

“Fuck you Jim,” he growled and then closed his eyes, taking another sip, “Fuck you to hell.”

 

“Lockie?”

 

“Uhnnn?”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Jim. You asked me why right? It’s all because of Jim.”

 

“Jim isn’t even here. He has hardly been in touch aside from official matters. For the past three months we have been living on our own here, at this apartment. Hang on, are you really feeling all right? Answer me Lockie, can you see and hear everything properly? Do you need to lie down for a bit? Come on, off to bed with you so you can sleep off this smack.”

 

“Stop patronizing,” Sherlock huffed. A strange pattern was forming in his head and a hazy picture was becoming clearer and clearer. “I am fine, I took in very little and…..Myc tell me something.”

 

“What?” Mycroft looked at his half-finished cup of coffee.

 

“You are in love with him too.”

 

Mycroft didn’t answer. He hid behind the cup, literally, using it like a shield before his face so Sherlock wouldn’t be able to see his reactions.

 

Sherlock dropped the nearly empty cup of coffee on the floor, hardly noticing that the handle of the cup broke into two or the remaining liquid spilling all over the rug and creating a Denmark map shaped stain there. “Oh God, Oh God, I have been so stupid and blind,” he started to pace back and forth, “You have lost weight, you barely spend a few hours at home and stick to office and work for sixteen, seventeen hours a day, you hardly eat, you sit and brood alone instead of going to your club or to play golf, which you used to love to do before.”

 

Mycroft knew it was futile to protest but he made one last valiant attempt. In a snobbish tone he said, “So? What are you implying?”

 

“You are in love with him too,” Sherlock said that more like a statement than an accusation, “You miss him just as much as I do. God, how did I not notice that before? While I am handling my emotions in this way, you have been doing it in your own ways. You’re taking pain medication and sleeping pills every day. You God damned asshole, you should practice what you preach. If you wanna toss my coke away then bring that fucking bottle of pills and that strip of pain medication and bin those too. Hypocrite! You’re a hypocrite Mycroft! What do you think mummy will do if she hears you’re unwell and on the path to self-destruction? She’d treat that as any less distressing as my coke use?”

 

“Calm down for Heaven’s sake,” Mycroft was angry but still composed, “And stop jumping to conclusions like a rabid monkey.”

 

“You dare….”

 

“I do. Sit down.”

 

“Make me.”

 

“I said SIT DOWN.”

 

Which Sherlock did but he was scowling so hard his face was a grotesque rictus of disgruntlement. Mycroft took a deep breath. He had to say it. Since Sherlock had figured out some things already, it was about time he got the entire picture. But at the same time he was worried about his kid brother’s ability to take that kind of shitty news. Sherlock had always been fragile when it came to emotions and feelings. Because he couldn’t handle them he had shunned them, deciding not to have close relationships or friendships any rather than get hurt by them.

 

“I am waiting, WAITING,” Sherlock shouted. No doubt partly fueled by his coke use but mostly it was just annoyance fueled by a deep-seeded fear about losing Jim.

 

“It’s not just us who has feelings for him Sherlock,” Mycroft opened up, “Over the past six months or so he has been with both of us. Neither of us are seeing him exclusively.”

 

Sherlock appeared aghast as he pieced some of the odd incidents of the past few months together in his head, “What? What do you mean? How do you mean? He loves me. We have been sleeping together whenever……fuck, wait, oh wait-wait-wait, you have been fucking him too. He has let you do that hasn’t he? Oh shit, how was I so blind? You guys visiting the Grand Canyon together, then coming over to this apartment, the way he told me he doesn’t want you to know about us…..oh….I have no idea what I am saying….but I get you.”

 

In a lower, almost pained voice he added, “It was all a lie. Nothing between us was the truth. He played with me. Played with us.”

 

Mycroft was hurting just as badly inside but, unlike Sherlock, he knew how to hold it together even when his heart was falling apart. These were tough times but this was precisely the point when a man needed to man up and take things under his stride, protect those around him and find a solution to the problem staring them in the face. He couldn’t afford to crumble now. “Lockie, you and I have both been blinded by our affections and naturally we have both been duped rather easily. But that doesn’t mean this should affect the rest of our lives. We need to recover and, if possible, confront him someday and ask him why he did what he did. I don’t know about you but I need answers, at least for closure.”

“I just want to die,” Sherlock said in a harsh, grating voice.

 

“Shut the fuck up and let’s get you to bed. You need sleep and so do I.”

 

“With some aid from the pills?”

 

“No, tonight just a bit of alcohol should do.”

 

“My room and your room?”

 

Mycroft blinked. Just like him, even Sherlock appeared to be in two minds. Things had truly changed between them. Before Jim happened, neither of them needed to think twice before getting into bed together. It was their dirty little secret but for them the relationship was not just about quick fucks behind closed doors. It was so much more than that. It was their sanctuary, their refuge, their shelter from the world, a way to stay sane when things went downhill or ennui came calling, when self-doubts reared their heads or the bed felt too lonely and empty.

 

Amidst all the physically satiating activities, they had also truly cared about each other. Even if they had never discussed about it, they still knew it in their hearts.

 

And now the big question mark was out in the open?

 

“I am ok if you sleep in my room,” Mycroft couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes, “But we might not really do something…..you know what I mean.”

 

“I do,” Sherlock said in a tired voice, “On the contrary I think we need it now more than ever.”

 

***

 

It felt weird. Odd, awkward and different.

 

The familiarity and comfort of sex, of sharing a bed, of being naked and entwined with each other no longer existed. Jim had successfully destroyed it for both of them. Even as Mycroft climbed on top of Sherlock and started to finger him open, he had flashes of a naked Jim writhing underneath him. Even as Sherlock felt Mycroft’s finger slip inside memories of Jim licking him open buzzed through his head and screwed up the moment for him. With every brush of Sherlock’s lips Mycroft longed to feel Jim’s breath on his skin and with every caress of Mycroft’s fingers Sherlock wished Jim was here to kiss him till he turned blue from lack of air.

 

Still, when Mycroft pushed inside him, it felt good enough for him to push back with a loud moan. Mycroft thrust in and out a few times and Sherlock raised his legs high in the air and let out a voluminous exhale that tapered off into a needy whimper. One of his hands fisted Mycroft’s hairs and the other held on to the headboard, he needed something to cling on to or he felt like he was falling, falling, falling. He also reluctantly admitted to himself that in some small, insignificant way he did miss Mycroft. They had drifted apart too far in the past few months, creating a Jim shaped space between them.

 

When Sherlock started to make those sounds, Mycroft time travelled to those days when this was routine between them. He had quite enjoyed his role as a care-giver and dominator to Sherlock who had happily played out the role of the sub and the needy little boy. While none of them played similar roles outside of bed, their bed games had always been satisfying and fulfilling. With Jim’s entry in their lives things had changed so abruptly and quickly that neither of them had even given things a proper think-through.

 

Now Mycroft regretted his hasty decision. While taking it up with Jim he had never considered Sherlock and how he might have felt. Had he abandoned Sherlock? Was they even the right thing to do?

 

Then Sherlock pulled at his hairs painfully and he lost the ability to think any further.

 

Holding Sherlock’s legs up by the ankles, he sat on his knees on the mattress and began to fuck Sherlock hard and fast. He needed it and, from the looks of it, Sherlock did too. His younger brother gave him an appreciative mod and tilted his hips to get his prostate brushed.

 

Mycroft continued to fuck him, watching Sherlock’s face intently and reminding himself repeatedly to focus on the man who was with him now and not let his mind drift to the one who was not. It wasn’t easy because he kept seeing Jim now and then, still it worked somewhat and the whines and moans and pants he heard were clearly from Sherlock, not the higher pitched screams and shrieks that were typical of Jim.

 

“I…I am close,” Sherlock warned, hand slowly moving to his erection to pleasure himself and bring himself to completion.

 

Mycroft nodded, letting himself go completely as he moved faster and faster, angling his thrusts to hit Sherlock’s prostate at least two out of four times he plunged in. The tight channel soon began to tighten further and rhythmic contractions started around his cock, causing him to grunt out with pleasure with every movement he made. His balls drew up and he loosely gripped Sherlock’s neck with one of his hands, tilting the man sideways. Then Mycroft hooked one of Sherlock’s legs around his neck to create the perfect angle, opening up the younger man for the deepest thrusts. Jim had taught him this position, a position in which the bottom got the best sensations from repeated hits to the most sensitive parts of his anal canal! Once again he had sneaked into his head and actions even as Mycroft struggled to fend him off.

 

“Oh fuckkkkk,” Sherlock stiffened all over and shuddered, making wild noises and clenching his fists into the sheets. Then shot all over himself as his orgasm crashed on him like a monster truck, leaving him flattened like a pancake. He felt out of breath for a long time and seemed to float away, cock still spurting, before the ecstasy passed and he was able to inhale again.

 

“Breathe Lockie,” Mycroft managed to murmur as he reached his own orgasm, biting down on his fist to keep it down somewhat. The lower part of his body shook with the spams that passed through it before he let out an almighty groan and slumped over a prone Sherlock.

 

“Jimmy….”

 

“Oh James….”

 

Both men stiffened again, this time from discomfort.

 

“Guess how I knew?” Mycroft asked, tumbling down on the mattress.

 

“When he got out of the car, after that sleep walking episode?” Sherlock murmured, lying still on his back, eyes on the ceiling.

 

“No, that was when the security officer called him your boyfriend and you made no attempt to correct him. You even looked like you had accepted that title, it was easy to notice that you even basked in it. But at that time I was too worried about James to give this a proper thought.”

 

“Well, in my case I noticed it when he stepped out of the car and hugged you. I had opened out my arms for him too but he didn’t notice it. He went straight into your arms. Nobody does that to a brother in law.”

 

“I agree,” Mycroft sighed, “Nobody does.”

 

Sherlock suddenly laughed out harshly, “Do you realize what pathetic suckers we both are!”

 

***

 

Jim sat on the balcony of his high-rise penthouse apartment and watched the city thrive around him. Thriving while he was dying a bit inside every day. The soothing hazy glow of the twinkling stars above or the gorgeous flickering lights of the massive modern city below had no effect on him, positive or negative. He was numb, emotionally and even physically, he had ceased to feel anything at all. A little over three months had passed since he had flown in from London and the dreaded day was coming closer and closer. There was no way to avoid that day or that fatal moment when this would have to be over one way or the other.

 

He had planned ahead for that day but unfortunately, despite having taken all precautions, he wasn’t sure of the results. It could go either way. If all went well, which was somewhat unlikely, he would be forgiven and kicked aside. He didn’t mind that at all, since if anything went wrong, someone would surely die. That _had to be avoided._

 

He flipped through his phone as he waited for the text to arrive, looking at pictures of him and Mycroft, him and Sherlock and all three of them together. A flicker of a smile crossed his face and he reminisced those moments of happiness that had changed him totally as a person. Earlier he had broken hearts, plans and lives, selfishly fulfilling his own needs and using people left, right and center. But the Holmes brothers had brought a stop to that. Those two eccentric siblings, known for their lack of social graces, had actually managed to evoke real feelings in him. Jim could no longer shut his eyes towards the truth. He was in love. He had fallen in love.

 

The three of them had been so wonderful together. Like a Terzetto at a concert. Three of them, in total harmony, perfect rhythm, taking leads in turns, beautiful and highly mesmerizing.

 

But life was not a concert. It wasn’t over in two hours. Nor did it take place once a month. Life was continuous, tough, unpredictable. “Mike, Sherly,” he whispered as he nursed his drink, “I am sorry. But I am trying to…..”

 

His phone buzzed.

 

_I am okay with the date and timing. Go on ahead, good luck, you can go back straight to Ireland or England once done. They will be in Dubai, waiting for you, you can all fly back together – CM_

 

Jim straightened his back. Time to act.

 

He dialed a number from his phone and began to talk in a chirpy, cheerful tone. “Hello Mr. Holmes….okay sure thing, uncle Reggie, how are you? All well? Great. I am good too, in fact things are really awesome here! I called to invite you over to Dubai for a very special event.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. This story is nearly finished from my side. Maybe about 20 chapters overall. Trying to give everyone a happy ending but......


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim fears karma while Sherlock and Mycroft lean on each other to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is 'Incest' in this chapter. Be warned. If you don't like that, stop reading after the Jim portions.

“Lockie. Lockie, please, just get up and eat something.”

 

Sherlock lay on his front, face half smothered into the pillow, eyes half shut. “Eat something,” Mycroft insisted, holding a plate right under his nose, “I made your favorite ham sandwiches and poached eggs and salmon medallion steaks, something I know you like.”

 

“It will never be the same again,” Sherlock mumbled, fiddling with the edge of the pillow cover, “We have been duped and abandoned and broken. I have….correction, we have lost him. His work is over. His house is ready. He has his business plans in place. He doesn’t need to play nice or romantic with any of us. And even if he does, even if he comes back, he can’t carry on this dual life because all three of us know his secret is out. If he had been bothered by it he wouldn’t have left us here. He would have taken one of us with him, just so the façade of romance could be kept up for just a while longer.”

 

“If he comes back and chooses one of us,” Mycroft put the plate on the nightstand and massaged the back of Sherlock’s head, “What happens to the other?”

 

“Precisely my point. But then….”

 

“But then what?”

 

“Mikey? Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

 

Mycroft considered every angle, every pros and cons and finally nodded, “Yeah. Much as I curse myself for thinking he could stoop so low, it has begun to dawn on me too. He did this for a purpose. This was not mere entertainment for him, playing boyfriend to two brothers and then making a quick getaway when the skeleton was about to tumble out of his closet. There was a deeper reason behind this. Think about it Lockie. What could it be?”

 

Sherlock sat up, “Business? Revenge? Money?”

 

“Nope. None of those things work.”

 

“Then did he have a reason to do this?”

 

“Not on him. But maybe someone else?”

 

“Who could that someone be?”

 

The brothers stared at each other for a long moment before Mycroft quickly pulled out his phone and started looking at something. Sherlock got on to his knees on the bed and looked over his brother’s shoulder. He was searching for some people by typing their names on the Google search engine. “You are making a list of our business competitors?” He asked, “People who could have wanted some of our secrets? People who could have sent Jim to us?”

 

“Someone planted him for sure,” Mycroft said, “And I’d be damned if I don’t find out who and screw his whole life for playing with the Holmes family.”

 

They looked at the list together and, after some collaborative effort, were able to compile a list of six names. Pulling all the strings he could, Mycroft got some intel on them through friends who worked in government agencies, the Yard and also private investigators. Sherlock on the other hand got on to his laptop and used his hacker skills to extract data from various places to support the theory they were trying to prove. An hour passed, the sandwiches disappeared, so did the pot of tea, and after a long time the Holmes boys exploited their brilliance to get to the bottom of the mystery.

 

“Calverton Smith, Baron Richard Gruner, Jack Stapleton, Charles….No he is dead,” Sherlock said, “We can zero down to these people. Smith because I had sent him to jail for fraud and forgery, the Baron was deprived of a huge property because his uncle bequeathed it to our father and he holds a huge grudge, Jack Stapleton because you happened to upstage him so often in college and later in society he hated you and of course that fellow, who accidentally killed himself while trying to get rid of our entire family…..”

 

“So,” Mycroft said, “You mean to say it’s personal and not professional.”

 

“The two things are not apart Mycroft,” Sherlock insisted, “Our lives are a combination of the personal side and the professional aspects. Why not target both?”

 

“So now we have to find out what sort of connection James has to any one of them?” Mycroft suggested more than asked.

 

Sherlock nodded. Then he clutched at his brother’s hand, “Mike, you don’t think we are being daft, right? I mean, maybe he is just a philanderer.”

 

“This was too well planned to be just a philandering episode,” Mycroft said, “Though, I would be the happiest man if I were to be proved wrong.”

 

Neither of them said in as many words but each knew what the other was thinking. They had similar fears and apprehensions. Better remember Jim as an unfaithful insensitive dog than some cold-hearted bastard who was out to destroy them with a little help from one of their enemies. Oh no, that would be way harder to accept.

 

“I am trying to redeem him,” Sherlock said feebly, “I am just trying to prove his innocence.”

 

“Me too Lockie,” Mycroft sighed and ruffled his brother’s hairs, “Me too.”

 

***

 

“Do you think this is some sort of a joke?”

 

Jim winced and looked away. “I tried my best.”

 

“No,” the voice was a low growl, “You didn’t try anywhere close to your best. My instructions to you were very simple and very lucid. You were supposed to put the booty up for duty and trap the Holmes brothers into separate relationships, then blackmail them by threatening to expose their incestuous relationship to the world, shame the mother and eventually help me wipe off Reginald Holmes and both his sons. Instead you tell me the plans only include Reg. While he is the one I hate the most, it’s of no use to me if he dies and his sons just continue to live with silver spoons sticking out of their mouths.”

 

Jim straightened his back. _Don’t look afraid, don’t let him know how you feel, don’t bow down or you will stay down._ “I have ruined the two brothers,” he said bitterly, “They will never love again, never marry, let the lineage die its own natural death. They will hate each other and that will ruin the family, especially the mother who would be devastated to see her beloved sons fighting with each other all the time. As for Reginald…..”

 

“I will take care of Reg. But everything else you said won’t happen.”

 

“They will…..”

 

“Shut up and listen to me Moriarty. The two brothers might have killed each other for you but you left them there, united in their grief and shock on discovering you played boyfriend to both. This will only strengthen their bond. If you truly wanted to get them killed in a fit of rage, one knifing the other and the other pulling the trigger, you would have brought one of them with you here. For the inauguration. Or…..”

 

“Please listen…..”

 

“Let me finish. I asked you to bring all three over so we could wipe them off in one stroke. The romance and betrayal, the exposure of their vile incest, those were supposed to be damning, heartbreaking, defaming points for them while they were still alive. Did you lose the plot?”

 

“I-I have not.”

 

“Then where are Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes? WHERE?”

 

“I told you,” Jim was at the end of his controls and snapped, “I was at risk of getting caught and if that had happened the whole plot would have gotten bungled. So I tried to salvage all I can. I am sure the two of them will come over to take their father’s body back, you can then deal with them the way you wish to. In the meantime, what about keeping your promise and letting Sebastian, sister and my brother go?”

 

“I said, they will be free only when three Holmes lives have ended. One life there for one life here. If you eventually succeed in finishing just one Holmes gent, then you gotta choose which of those three you wish to free. I am keeping my word, you see.”

 

“You are not keeping your word in any way you lying, manipulative, cold hearted bastard,” Jim yelled with the full force of his lungs and started throwing things around, screaming, simply screaming. He shouted obscenities, threw and broke some more things, then stomped on the ground, smashed his fist against the headboard and wall, then opened the window and looked down many floors below. The Burj Khalifa was windswept like all other days, the dry and dusty heat in the air scorching his face and reddening his cheeks as he climbed on to the window sill, almost willing himself to take the leap.

 

He had broken two hearts and ruined two lives. And now he was about to kill their father and delve a further blow to them. He was going to ruin an entire family. How would that pan out for him and his dear ones? Could he really suppose he could build a rope ladder for them to escape using the crushed bones of the Holmes family members?

 

_Karma Jim. Your karma will destroy you._

 

He heard his phone ringing but paid no attention. As soon as the call switched to voice mail and a voice message started, he heard that dreaded voice again. “Go on, jump little Jimmy. I think your brother will be the first one to die. How about I bury him to the neck and let the wolves maul him to death overnight? That pretty face destroyed, every bit of flesh pulled out, eye gouged out and finally……”

 

“No, NO, no don’t,” Jim was panicky and almost fell off, before he managed to stagger back into the room.

 

“Good boy. Now close the window.”

 

***

 

“JIM!”

 

Sherlock sat up in panic, every fiber of his body screaming with the remnants of his nightmare in which he had seen Jim lying in a pool of blood and writhing in pain.

 

“Lockie,” Mycroft’s voice broke through the trance of panic he had slipped into. It had a calming effect on him and he managed to open his eyes, resulting in the much-needed snap that was binding together his reality and dream. He looked around and saw himself on a private jet. Right, this was the jet they had rented in order to reach Dubai in the shortest possible time and without getting detected by any third party. He grabbed the glass of water Mycroft had extended towards him and drank it down. Gosh, his throat was dry as sandpaper. “Here,” Mycroft said, “Have some more.”

 

He downed three glasses and stood up on shaky, stiff legs. The flight attendant came scuttling with a cup of strong black coffee, with a little sugar added just like he preferred. “Anything else sir?” She asked, eyeing him openly.

 

“No, that will be all,” Sherlock replied without even noticing her ‘look’. Once she was gone he looked at his elder brother who, aside from a slight jiggle of his right leg which showed he was tense, was cool as a cucumber and unruffled as a groomed rooster. “I….sorry….I have no idea when I nodded off and then this horrid nightmare came on,” he took a sip of his coffee and let out a breath of relief, “I have no idea why I am getting this recurrent nightmare. I see him bloodied, shot or knifed….I don’t know, groaning in pain and calling out to us…..am I going crazy Mike? Please tell me, am I?”

 

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” Mycroft said as he reached out and pulled Sherlock down on the seat next to him, “I can see that for the past week. You wake up at night and can’t go to sleep, you wake up early and look like death warmed over all day. Naturally you have been falling asleep at all odd places as a result of the tiredness you feel. You dozed during the trip to the airfield. Then you slept the moment the plane started to taxi. To do what we have set out to do, we need to be alert and have our wits around us.”

 

Sherlock cradled his head in his hands and sighed.

 

“Lockie, he betrayed us.”

 

“Hnnn….”

 

“He played a game. He has a sponsor. This is not a simple breakup.”

 

“I still can’t stop loving him or worrying about him. Maybe what I see in my nightmares is a warning, a premonition of some sort.”

 

Mycroft paused for a few moments. He felt bad giving hypocritical advice to Sherlock when he was himself guilty of doing the same thing. While he didn’t have nightmares, his days were filled with various thoughts of Jim and his mind conjured up difference scenarios to justify Jim’s actions or prove him as an innocent victim. If he was living in denial and unable to reconcile himself to reality, how was he even lecturing his brother?

 

But then one had to sometimes do the right thing. And the right thing to do was to guide Sherlock back to his original path when he was a work-focused, happy-go-lucky wisecracking young man. Mycroft missed that Sherlock.

 

“Lockie, we need to help each other. Even I am struggling.”

 

Sherlock snorted, “Tell me about it.” He paused and leaned back on the seat, then slowly moved closer to his elder brother and shook his head, “This isn’t working. Can you help me Mikey, please?”

 

There was no doubt about what he meant by ‘help’ and Mycroft was scandalized for a moment. But months with Jim had opened him up to a myriad world of possibilities and even he needed a distraction, so a natural hunger for his beautiful younger brother built up in the form of a rising heat in his loins. “If you promise to stay quiet and not make a racket,” he whispered into Sherlock’s ear and felt the shiver run through him, “We can use the toilet. As this is a private jet brother mine, we have more than enough space for two six footers to be accommodated there. But there is no sound proofing.”

 

“I get it,” Sherlock said, voice already husky from arousal, “Hurry.”

 

Mycroft’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“I am close already,” Sherlock grinned in a goofy manner.

 

***

 

“Oh Jesus Christ, sweet God, Holy…..” Mycroft closed his eyes as he sank into Sherlock’s tight heat. It was warm and velvety and the elder Holmes had to hold his breath and slow down so he didn’t spill instantly.

 

“Moooove,” Sherlock demanded. He was biting Mycroft’s fist to keep himself quiet. It hurt but Mycroft indulged him. Anything for his Lockie. He loved Jim but he had never stopped loving Sherlock. They were brothers till the very end and always there for each other.

 

That mere thought made him smile and rest his head against the back of his younger sibling’s neck. Breathing in the combined whiffs of musk and arousal, cigarette and cologne, fruity shampoo and Sherlock’s own spicy scent had a dizzy effect on him and he thrust in hard a couple of times, sliding all the way inside to delicious depths. Sherlock gripped the edge of the sink harder, trying not to hit his head, not to topple, not to cry out. He made animal noises, pushing back and desperate for release.

 

“Here goes,” Mycroft began to move, “Keep it down Lockie.”

 

“T-Trying…”

 

Ever since Jim’s departure, they had had sex only two or three times and this was the fourth one. But unlike the earlier times, they didn’t feel Jim’s presence between them. It seemed like old times, when they had each other, hidden from the eyes of the world and even their parents.

 

Sherlock’s breathing grew ragged and rough while Mycroft kept hissing and taking in sharp breaths now and then as he moved in and out of Sherlock. He looked down and let out a muted curse. The sight of his shaft appeared and disappearing as he fucked Sherlock was too hot.

 

Sherlock on the other hand kept staring into the mirror over the sink, watching Mycroft do him while he bent over for his brother, arse exposed, the rest of him still covered up. It was erotic and hot, and he felt more than satisfied to temporarily forget his woes.

 

They kept things down till the very end. Aside from the sounds of Sherlock’s watch strap hitting the sink’s enamel surface and their clothes rustling, the airplane toilet was more or less silent and peaceful. The drone of the engine drowned out other tiny sounds, like a sudden squeak from Sherlock when his prostate was hit or the occasional humming from Mycroft whenever his Lockie’s inner muscles tightened and spasmed around his cock. Slowly, as their orgasms built up, even Mycroft his to muffle himself against Sherlock’s back so he didn’t cry out by mistake.

 

It finally happened and creamy loads were shot, Mycroft thrusting into his own spunk and placing kisses all over his brother’s jawline and neck and Sherlock panting hard as he looked at the streaks of pearly cum on the wooden cabinet door below the sink. Neither of them had moaned out loud or cursed colorfully in ecstasy but it was a satisfying experience overall and has served its purpose. For a few precious moments they had found some peace.

 

“Mikey,” Sherlock was the first one to speak.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You had forgotten me.”

 

“As had you.”

 

“If we take him back….who will he be with?”

 

“Lockie, I doubt that will happen. From what we have found out so far, he will be very lucky to survive. If only he had trusted us enough to seek our help on time.”

 

They disengaged and cleaned up thoroughly, Mycroft produced a small bottle of Davidoff from his pocket and splashed it on them. “Don’t want to step out smelling like ‘just-fucked’,” he said.

 

“You have changed,” Sherlock let Mycroft button up his shirt, “You are using four letter words liberally nowadays.”

 

“You have changed too,” Mycroft kissed Sherlock on the forehead, “You have begun to look beyond your own nose and care for others. It’s not a bad thing to be so. In fact, I like the new Sherlock even better than the previous one.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Sherlock to the rescue of their common love interest - Jimmy

“It’s all him,” Sherlock commented as they took their seats again, “He changed me thoroughly. But that’s where I get stuck every time I think about him, you know. If this was not meant to be, then why was he even put in our path? And why the fuck can’t I be angry with him even though I know what he’s done isn’t the right thing to do? I should be ranting, calling dad and asking him to fire him.”

 

“Just like me, I suppose even you’re giving him the benefit of the doubt,” Mycroft refilled Sherlock’s coffee and poured some for himself, “Actually, truthfully speaking, it’s hard to fault him at all. He was the best thing that happened to me in a long time. I was contemplating marriage and a life together. Imagine that, me.”

 

“I can imagine,” Sherlock said as he fiddled with his cup and stared at the black liquid and the swirling vapors rising from it, “Since I experienced similar changes in myself. He taught me to take things lightly, to enjoy myself, to live in the moment and let things slide if they were not important. I lightened up and for the first time began to enjoy my life on a daily basis. I even looked forward to the next day, to meeting him, or at least to have a few words with him over the phone or Skype. While it lasted, it was an amazing relationship. It was love at first sight.”

 

“Same here,” Mycroft said, “The moment I saw him I knew he was created for me and sent down by some superpower above so I could finally feel alive.”

 

“Excuse me,” Sherlock said, “That’s how I felt Mikey. Like I had finally met someone I would gladly do anything for…..wait.”

 

“What?”

 

“Sent by….sent by…..oh no Mike, it was no superpower but a super villain. I get it now.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Jim will not make it unless we pull off some sort of a miracle. If this is who I think it is, then he spares no one once his job is done. We also have to warn daddy that he and mummy should be careful and watch their steps for a few days, at least till we have that bastard behind bars.”

 

Mycroft didn’t look too worried on that account. “Mummy and daddy are in London. They are out of harm’s way as of this moment.”

 

“Wrong,” Sherlock said, quickly checking his texts, “His secretary told me he is traveling.”

 

“Yes, she did say that. But he’s not in Dubai, where we suspect the criminal is. As far as I know, daddy will be back today and we’ll tell him to wait it out a few more days before planning another business trip.”

 

“Nope, something does not add up. If Jelena knew daddy is back today, she would have at least asked us to postpone the trip by a couple of hours and take it to Dubai once it’s refueled and the new pilot has been arranged. She rented us this, which means dad is not returning home today. Have you wondered where our Falcon jet is?”

 

“That can be easily found out,” Mycroft got up and went towards the cockpit, “I will ask our pilot to radio the control room and ask for the log. They would know if any private jet had booked a touchdown and then later cancelled.”

 

Sherlock sat for a few agonizing minutes before Mycroft also joined him, the two of them united in their fear for their father. It was very unlikely of Reginald Holmes to not let his sons know where he was, especially when there had been a change of plans. “Of course I can ask mummy,” Mycroft said by means of explanation, “But if I do that she will immediately smell a rat and start worrying unnecessarily.” Sherlock nodded in understanding and checked his watch. They would be landing in forty-five minutes. He felt rejuvenated after sleeping for most of their nine-hour flight and afterwards the sex had recharged his batteries too. Now if only his dad was back home and safe, or perhaps in some place far from Dubai, or eastern Europe, where the scheming bastard, the real villain was.

 

“Who is it?” Mycroft asked as the plane started its descent, “If Jim is being coerced to do certain things then who is coercing him. We earlier narrowed down the suspects to three, but it seems you think it’s none of them.”

 

“It is…..”

 

Sherlock was interrupted by the co-pilot and navigator Susan visiting them. “Just got word from the base Mr. Holmes and Mr. Holmes,” she filled them in, “Your family’s falcon jet was due to return this morning but it went to Prague instead for a refueling and clean-up, then it headed towards Dubai.”

 

“WHAT?” Both of them jumped up, startling her.

 

She stepped backwards, not sure if she had done something wrong. “Yes,” she said, “It landed in Dubai early morning today. That’s where Mr. Reginald Holmes is.”

 

***

 

“Thanks for the dinner, it was really nice,” Jim smiled politely and quietly, his eyes downcast and sad, as the plates were removed. When the gloved waiter attempted to serve dessert, Jim refused with a soft ‘no thanks’ and picked up a glass of water instead.

 

“If nice dinners get only pecked at, I wonder what happens to average dinners?” Reginald Holmes smiled broadly.

 

Jim smiled uneasily and tried hard to hide the guilt in his eyes but he knew he was failing there. The truth was that this dinner, comprising mostly of delicious Middle Eastern dishes and a fusion of dishes from the Indian subcontinent, was one of the best he had seen. But the food had turned to ash in his mouth and the sight of the expensive Australian wine had made him want to throw up. So he had opted for water and just nibbled at his food, hoping he could keep both of them down.

 

“James,” Reginald leaned across the small table in the private dining room at Palms Jumeirah, the ultra-luxury hotel in Dubai, “Is everything all right?”

 

It had been a long time since someone had spoken this kindly to him. Jim felt terrible. He had always tried to be an ambitious and insensitive bastard, someone who focused on his own needs instead of anyone else’s, but the nine odd months spent with Sherlock and Mycroft had brought about a sea-change in him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t act on that ‘changed’ part of himself because his hands were tied. People’s lives depended on him and he had long since realized that he did have a heart after all. He could neither let his friend and siblings die nor could he let someone kill the entire Holmes family.

 

A rock and a hard place, the devil and deep sea, between the tsunami and the outpouring lava, that was where he was caught.

 

“James,” Reginald put his hand on top of Jim’s, “You okay son?”

“I-I am…..”

 

“You know, I must confess to something,” the old man went on, visibly happy, “I knew that you were your father’s son and your work would be exemplary. You have proved me correct there and I am so proud of you. But there’s something else that I was hoping for, just hoping since this wasn’t for me to decide, and that was about a possibility of including you in our family. My sons, Mycroft and Sherlock, they are both handsome, successful and brilliant gay men who are yet to find a partner. By any chance, do you like any one of them?”

 

To his horror, Jim felt tears well up in his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, “I don’t deserve such an honor.”

 

“Oh, let my sons be the judge of that and let me tell you that we are most eager to make you a member of the Holmes clan.”

 

“I-I don’t know….”

 

Reginald quickly backtracked, “James, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you. This is not an obligation at all. You owe us nothing son, so if you don’t particularly like my boys as potential partners or have someone else in your life, then I completely understand. It changes nothing.”

 

Jim gripped the edge of the table, breathing heavily, hyperventilating almost. An alarmed Reginald got up, waved the waiter off and stood beside Jim, massaging his back. “It’s fine, whatever it is that’s bothering you, it will be fine. Calm down, relax, sorry if I said something to upset you James but……”

 

“Can you take me to the rest room uncle Reg,” Jim looked at the spot under the table where the dreaded recording device was, “I think I am about to get sick.”

 

***

 

The luxury SUV sped through the desert leaving a trail of dust and sand in its wake. The driver had put on some light, melodious Arabic music and that had somehow lulled both Mycroft and Sherlock to sleep. By the time they woke up, dawn was kissing the eastern skies and a signpost said they were very close to Abu Dhabi. “Wakey,” Sherlock nudged Mycroft by the shoulder and stretched his long arms, “We will be there in one hour. By the way, nice idea here. Landing in Qatar and having dinner there and then setting out of Abu Dhabi. Nobody would get the slightest inkling that we are here.”

 

“They are watching us as we speak, or watching out for us,” Mycroft said, “I hope your contact can get us the necessary cover we need.”

 

“Oh yes of course,” Sherlock said as he checked his phone for the latest updates, “Oh darn. This is not good news Mikey. They time of inauguration has been brought forward by a couple of hours, citing the midday heat as a reason. The bridge will be inaugurated by His Highness, Prince Jamal-ul-Mahmud-Syed-Mufti at nine in the morning. We will barely have two hours after we reach the city. Someone does not want us to get there on time or is destiny just being a stubborn mule with us?”

 

“I don’t know a Sherlock who thinks destiny even plays a factor,” Mycroft said, “In these cases of conspiracy and sabotage, murder and mayhem, the opponent or enemy should not be taken lightly. Like we changed our plans, they changed theirs. I bet someone influenced the prince.”

 

“The prince,” Sherlock suddenly jabbed his fingers in the air.

 

“Now what?” Mycroft looked disgruntled, “You like the prince? I know he is not gay. He has four wives.”

 

“Oh shit, what kind of terrible deduction is that?”

 

“I inferenced that from your reaction. You made it sound like he is a conquest or something.”

 

“Oh God, no, not at all. I meant to say that he can be of some help to us.”

 

“The prince of Abu Dhabi?” Mycroft did a facepalm at first but when Sherlock gave him a meaningful look he said, “All right, I shall see what I can do. Give me my tablet and don’t disturb me for the next half an hour.”

 

“Well done big bro,” Sherlock chimed, “Congratulating you in advance because if someone can pull this of, it has to be Mycroft Holmes.”

 

***

 

The beautiful bridge between two manmade islands and connecting them to the peninsular mainland gleamed in the morning sunlight. Milky white with blue and green patterns on the deck and beautifully crafted superstructure that was designed personally by Jim. Ten miles long and at one point dividing into three portions, one roadway, one walkway and one for the tube, it was modern, elegant and utilitarian. The media was there, mostly from UK and UAE, some from Singapore and India and a couple of them from the United States. The dignitaries were yet to arrive but Jim Moriarty and Reginald Holmes stood under a shaded canopy, suited and wearing designer sunshades, all ready for the big moment.

 

“No reporters,” Reginald’s bodyguards Alec and Alana, who were known as the typhoon twins, kept the onlookers and press at bay while allowing other minor celebs to come through.

 

A chopper hovered above and a crowd had collected, both of people and vehicles, to be the first ones to ply or walk on the beautiful Jamal Mahmud bridge. It was named after the prince who had sponsored it, along with a Russian oil tycoon, who had his business interests invested in both islands. Jim was outwardly normal, his delectable smile intact and his body language one of supreme confidence and poise. But his sunshades hid the storm that was evident in his eyes. In a few minutes, this would turn into a personal disaster for him. He would either end up dead, become the arch villain or get immensely hated and loathed by Sherlock and Mycroft.

 

He was sure the third fate was the worse. He would rather die or run away from here, hoping it wouldn’t chase him to the ends of the earth.

 

If only he could do that…..

 

“His Highness is here,” Reginald said joyfully.

 

A sinister figure in a dark suit pushed through the crowd and came forward, standing with the frontline guests who were either rich businessmen, celebs or local dignitaries. There were only about twenty of them and most didn’t know each other, so this evil figure easily blended in.

 

Jim’s eyes moved towards him. His right hand remained steady on the remote he held, which would send balloons soaring and streamers descending the moment the prince cut the ceremonial ribbon but his left hand (and he was a leftie) move stealthily to a small gap between blazer buttons. He was trying to reach into his clothes, his expression slightly wan as compared to other days but his eyes glowing like burning coals in the night. If he was going to go down, he would do that in a blaze of glory. “Uncle Reg…..” he mumbled under his breath.

 

“I know James. I am right here. This will work.”

 

The prince came by and made his usual speeches, waved at the crowds and even gave a few quick interviews to the biggest of channels. He politely and decidedly ignored the calls for selfies and poses and went straight to his investment partner, Russian tycoon Andrei Davidov, and shook hands with Reginald Holmes. He also backslapped Jim and thanked him for this marvelous creation before they all posed for a group photograph for the prince’s private collection, with his private photographer.

 

As soon as the photographer was done, the prince ushered another man forward. “He is the editor of my soon-to-be-launched lifestyle magazine,” came the high command, “Please grant him an interview on the current trend of micro mansions in the western hemisphere.”

 

Jim wanted to do anything but give interviews at this moment, but an order was an order. Even Reginald Holmes was taken aback but he gave Jim a brief nod and mouthed ‘Do it’. The Prince was a very important man and he wasn’t used to being told ‘no’. This project had paid Reginald’s company over fifty million pounds overall, with nearly 30% of that figure as net profit, and made Jim richer by three million as architect’s fees. If the prince wanted them to cut the ribbon with their teeth they would have to agree.

 

Jim was pulled aside by the tall man in the local attire. He wore a long white robe, sported thick sunglasses and a dark neatly trimmed beard. However, the moment Jim spotted his shoes he knew this man wasn’t an Arab. He wore Gucci loafers and not the local sandals or shoes.

 

But then how did the prince not notice it?

 

Unless the prince knew something.

 

He noticed the photographer wearing similar shoes and showing suspicious movements, like standing too close to Reginald, nursing a gun under his sleeve and constantly giving Jim ‘looks’.

 

It struck him like lightning.

 

“Mikey!!!”

 

“James, why didn’t you…..”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“We don’t want anything to happen to our father, or you,” Mycroft spoke through gritted teeth, his voice laced with angst and anxiety, “If only you had told us you were being bullied.”

 

“Go away,” Jim insisted, a snarl in his voice, “You are going to muck up everything.”

 

Mycroft grabbed Jim’s elbow so the smaller man didn’t get away. But he didn’t let his body language change, so nobody around them suspected that this was an agitated conversation and not a lighthearted interview. “Not going anywhere without you and dad,” he said with finality.

 

“You know nothing Mike,” Jim tried to disengage but Sherlock was right behind him now and blocked his moves of escape, “Fuck, even you are here. Why don’t you both just leave with your dad? It’s he you came here for, right? I am a bloody bastard who played with your feelings, so it doesn’t matter what I do or where I go. After today you won’t have to see me again. Now leave, go, just go away.”

 

“You are a very good architect and an excellent lover,” Sherlock whispered in Jim’s ear and was happy to note the shiver that ran through his lover’s body, “But you are an extremely poor actor and a lousy liar. You didn’t play with our feelings, you idiotically fell in love with both of us. Listen Jimmy, you duped us back there by sheer luck and made us believe you were no longer interested in us, but you also made a huge error of judgment by leaving us to our devices. Separated from you, my brother and I got to assess you from all angles. It seems, Mycroft and I have found out why you did what you did.”

 

“No,” Jim was panicking by now, “You couldn’t have.”

 

“Oh yes, we have.”

 

“He-He is going to…..”

 

“Tell us Jim. Is there anything else we need to know?”

 

“My brother, my sister, my best friend…..”

 

“Where are they?” Mycroft asked more gently, pretending to note something on his tablet so they could keep up the façade of the interview, “The prince is on our side. His men will help us. Where are they being kept?”

 

“Bud Dubai….Qamar Apartments….don’t know the number…..but he has adequate eyes and hands posted there….he will kill them, like he killed my father.” Jim was getting dizzy from his nerves. He wished Sherlock and Mycroft would leave, otherwise they’d ruin his best-laid plans.

 

“We will get them,” Sherlock said quickly, “Once the ribbon is cut….”

 

“The bridge,” Jim said in a choked voice, shaking all over, “The first part of the bridge is unstable. It will break apart after the first mile as soon as a sufficient number of cars ply on it. This is a sabotage. Hundreds will die if they are allowed to drive on this ticking time bomb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not promising a threesome at the end but I am trying my best for a happy ending for all.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real villain is revealed and so is the reason behind Jim's actions so far!

While Sherlock, Mycroft and Jim were talking in hushed voices, the dark-suited and squinty eyed man in his fifties came forward and posed for a photograph with the prince before politely stepping aside. He walked slowly to the side and stood beside Reginald Holmes who was talking on his mobile phone. Clearing his throat, he said a muted ‘Good morning, great work here, lovely bridge I see here.’

 

“Thanks a lot Charlie.”

 

Charles Augustus Magnussen looked horrified for a moment before his cool, almost reptilian look came back. “So you have recognized me,” he said in a rather cold voice, “The same man your loudmouth younger son exposed, your holier than thou older son sent behind the bars and whom you personally ruined and almost drove to death. You would be rather fraught with sorrow now, because l seem to be very much alive and am now ready to extract my pound of flesh. I accidentally met your friend Moriarty and used him a means to get to you. After I had learned enough about your family’s weaknesses through him, I got rid of him through an ‘accident’ and focused on my next vessel, his son Jim.”

 

Reginald nodded, “Using the kids eh? So typical of you.”

 

“Kids?” Magnussen huffed, “Wolf pups.”

 

“Says the man who didn’t have any. Why am I not surprised?”

 

“I had none because you didn’t let your sister marry me. Then you humiliated me and sent me off like some stray.”

 

“I humiliated you or you humiliated yourself? Trying to get into the bedroom of a married woman, what does that say of you? I had forgiven you and even let you work with me later, till my younger son discovered your treacherous plots of ruining my business. Anyone in my place would have shot you through the head but I, with due restraint, only turned you over to the cops. Had it not been for Mycroft, you would have died in the hands of one of your arch enemies back then.”

 

Magnussen laughed, “Maybe you should have let that happen. I escaped my death but you won’t escape yours.”

 

“Really?” Reginald raised an eyebrow, “Do you realize there are cops in plain clothes around us, just waiting for you to make one move so they can arrest you. And even if you don’t put a foot wrong today, your days of freedom are numbered. As we speak, I have turned over plenty of evidence to the MI6 and the local police to have your passport impounded and warrant to be issued for your arrest. You’re finished Charlie.”

 

Magnussen hissed, “No, you are. I have the trump cards and aces up my sleeves. While your sons languish in London, fighting over Jim, trying to figure out what the heck happened, you will be in your watery grave. Just sit in your car and take a drive over the bridge like it’s been planned originally. If you don’t do that, your wife dies in London. She is at a bridge party later today and there will be an assassin waiting there. The moment I give the signal…..”

 

“Is this your friend Mr. Holmes?” The prince was standing there with a big grin on his face. “Your Highness,” Reginald bowed slightly and said, “Yes he is. I was thinking, he should also be part of the first ride on the Jamal Mahmud bridge.”

 

Charles Augustus Magnussen’s smug grin disappeared and he almost turned tail and walked off before two burly bodyguards blocked his way. Startled, he turned towards the Prince who seemed completely at ease with the whole situation, almost as if he was a secret confidante to Reginald Holmes. “Of course,” he said as if he were talking to a buddy, “Your friend is my friend. Without your help this bridge wouldn’t have been built so this request is a very small one. I shall honor this. In fact, I have a better idea than this. Let him be the first one to ride across the bridge while we follow later.”

 

“No,” Magnussen said quickly, “Your Highness, this gesture is way too much for a nobody like me. Me riding on this beautiful bridge as its first commuter, that’s completely unnecessary. I don’t deserve to…..”

 

“Are you disobeying me?”

“No sir….”

 

“Then get into the car and drive.”

 

The cruel-eyed man’s face twisted in a rictus before he smirked, like a venomous scorpion about to strike. “Very well then,” he said, “As soon as you cut the ribbon.”

 

“Very well.”

 

***

 

Sherlock knew a man like Charles Augustus Magnussen wouldn’t go into anything as big and dangerous as this without a proper backup and some coverage of ‘insurance’. Something told him that the vile man had not revealed all his cards yet, not even to Jim. So, when Mycroft went to rescue Jim’s family from their hostage situation, he decided to stick to Jim and watch Magnussen’s every move, so he could properly foil those.

 

He observed the man’s face and saw the way his nervous, ashen look turned into an almost normal one the moment he asked the Prince to cut the ribbon. What could it be? What was it? “Jimmy,” he asked under his breath, “What do you think he is trying to do?”

 

Jim thought for a quick moment. He was just as unsure as Sherlock was about Magnussen’s intentions and, despite his worries about his siblings and Sebastian, was equally concerned for the safety and lives of people around him. With Sherlock and Mycroft around, with Reginald forgiving him and even offering to help him out, he also had the moral obligation of protecting them. He HAD to protect them even if that cost him his life. He looked at the whole scene, noting every detail, trying to think exactly how Magnussen would think, then came to a sickening conclusion.

 

“Sherlock, the Prince should not cut the ribbon. He shouldn’t even touch the ribbon with hand or scissors.”

 

“Oh shit, he is about to die and you will be blamed for this,” Sherlock exclaimed and ran towards the prince who was all set to cut the ribbon. He screamed to draw attention and put the prince off his task and the moment he did that, Magnussen recognized him. In a flash he had grabbed the gun from one of the prince’s bodyguards and aimed it at Sherlock. Jim cursed colorfully and threw himself in front of Sherlock but Reginald beat him to it. The single bullet that left Magnussen’s revolver pierced Reginald’s right arm and the old man collapsed on the ground, groaning with pain.

 

Mayhem ensued as people screamed and ran, sirens went off and the prince was whisked off to safety by his security team. Sherlock grabbed Magnussen and smashed his nose with a single punch while Jim repeatedly kicked him, keeping him down.

 

“Sherlock, James….”

 

“Daddy!”

 

“Uncle Reg!”

 

They made a mistake of keeping their eyes off Magnussen as they tended to the injured and bleeding man and, as expected, Magnussen got into a nearby car and started the engine. Unable to stop himself from showing off, he screeched to a halt right next to them and said, “A single rider won’t make the bridge collapse. But if I am followed by several vehicles then it might. So it’s up to you James Moriarty, if you want to send people after me and let them plunge to their deaths sixty feet below.”

 

He drove off laughing.

 

“He got away,” Sherlock was dismayed.

 

“No,” Reginald said, “No, don’t do that. All we did so far would be in vain if he does.”

 

“But what can we do dad?”

 

“He must not get away Sherlock.”

 

“He won’t, uncle Reg.”

 

Jim’s voice was cold, emotionless and set in firm determination. He got up calmly and picked up the scissors the prince had dropped, then walked over to the still uncut ribbon. In the distance Magnussen was getting away, driving down the bridge at the speed of lightning. If he was not pursued, chances were that he would reach one of the islands and escape on a boat or just hide it out and escape later. They could call more choppers but that would take time. Right now the single chopper that was hovering above was making a slow descent to a nearby helipad. It had to ferry Reginald and a few other people injured in the stampede to the nearest hospital. Magnussen would get away, that was how it looked like.

 

“Jim NOOOOO,” Sherlock yelled with the full force of his lungs, “It’s go explosives attached to it. Don’t cut the ribbon.”

 

“There is no other way Sherly,” Jim’s voice had a finality to it.

 

“No son, don’t,” Reginal winced as he tried to get up, falling back on the ground.

 

“Take him to the hospital,” Jim said, “He has lost too much blood.”

 

“I am not going without you,” Sherlock said stubbornly.

 

“I started this Sherl, I have to finish it,” Jim said resignedly, a strangely serene smile on his face, “I have thought through it. There is no other way.”

 

“Let him escape, we will get him another time.”

 

“No. I don’t want him to victimize another Jim and target another family. I have to put him down.”

 

“We can send one car after him, as he said, one at a time won’t cause a collapse.”

 

Jim shook his head and pointed, “No, there is not enough time. You see where he has reached, once he crosses the first pillar we cannot be sure he will be impacted. But if I cause an explosion now, the reverberations from it will surely cause the bridge to collapse at its weakest point. If that happens, he will go down with it. Doesn’t matter what happens to me when it blows up, you take your father and move to safety. My mind is made up Sherlock.”

 

“I have to stop him dad,” Sherlock looked helplessly at his father, “Can you make it to that spot there, where the chopper is landing.”

 

“I’ll try,” Reginald said, his knees shaking as he stood up clutching his bleeding arm, “Listen son, be kind to Jim. He could have done a lot worse but he didn’t and….I seriously think he loves both of you.”

 

“I know,” Sherlock said and rushed towards Jim.

 

The next few moments blended into each other like bleeding colors on a canvas. One moment Jim was cutting the ribbon and the very next moment he was on the ground, Sherlock on top of him as the latter had knocked him off his feet and snatched the scissors away. He somehow managed to get back on his feet and with a great effort emulated one of his sports moves, that of a javelin thrower. Back in school Sherlock was no great sportsman. The only decent effort he ever showed with his long arms and fine technique was throwing a javelin at track and field events. He used the same effort and technique to throw the oversized two feet long scissor, especially created for this occasion, as far away on to the bridge as possible.

 

He had done this mostly to avoid letting Jim grab it again. But it had a different effect.

 

*BOOM*

 

He was blown off his feet by the aftereffects of the explosion and landed next to Jim, hitting his shoulder rather painfully on the ground. In the distance there was a cracking sound and the bridge developed a gaping hole, concrete, bricks and mortar splashing into the sea below. Dust rose in swirls and the smell of gunpowder was rife in the air. Sherlock had the satisfaction of watching Magnussen’s car lift twenty feet in the air and then plunge straight downwards.

 

“Oh fuck, that was sweet,” he said, his tone a mix of relief, surprise and delight, “Jimmy, the explosives were in the scissor and not the ribbon or anywhere else…..Jimmy….Jim-Jim….hey, what happened to you?”

 

Jim was unconscious. There was a large pale blue bruise forming on his forehead and he had a bleeding lip. “Sorry,” Sherlock said tenderly, realizing what had happened, “I had to save your life. I pushed you too hard it seems.”

 

He kissed his lover’s slightly open mouth and whispered, “I am sorry. I love you.”

 

***

 

Mycroft knew he was risking his neck but he couldn’t stop himself. The local cops had gone into the building to save the hostages and he could have easily just stayed back and waited for them to finish their mission, but he tailed them instead and went inside.

 

He had to save his James’ family, whatever remained of it. If this meant so much to the Irishman, he would gladly help him reunite with his siblings and friend. Even if that meant risking himself in the process, he decided to do it.

 

As they reached the designated floor, the first set of bullets flew at them. Magnussen had created an intricate web of traps, armed henchmen and cameras to prevent any break-in, an escape or a rescue attempt. Not aware of this the cops were taken by surprise and the first two fell like flies on the sand. The approach of the cops had been alerted to the gang waiting inside and before the rescue team could recover from the initial loss, an explosive went off at the end of the corridor and injured three more men.

 

“We need backup,” the leader barked into his wireless set.

 

Mycroft was crouching against the wall, still some distance away from the firing line, when a brilliant idea struck him. He looked around, his astute business brain and problem-solving abilities helping him see pathways to their destination. “Pssst, officer, hello,” he called out to the man ahead, “I don’t think we can take them head on. They will cause unspeakable damage to your men and those assholes might even hurt the hostages out of spite. Let’s surprise them and break through their defenses. See, there are other ways into the flat. The laundry chute for example, let your men use the laundry chute and the central air-conditioning ducts. Throw in a tear gas shell and immobilize them.”

 

The man looked pretty shocked at first. Then he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Are you a businessman?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is that your cover?”

 

“Whatcha mean?”

 

“The prince advocates your cause, you follow us into a shootout situation and now you’re giving me ideas that only a very few specially trained officers might have. Do you work for your country’s intelligence?”

 

Mycroft had a brief vision of himself in a power packed office, attended and waited on hand and foot by field agents and other experts, receiving a knighthood from the queen. At any other moment he would have either been smug or just turned up his snobbish nose and said, ‘Oh well, you never know’. But that day was different and so was that moment. This wasn’t about him. Sherlock, Jim and his father were still in serious danger and the poor hostages were on the verge of being killed.

 

“No, just a businessman, please do it my way though,” he pleaded, “It might work and would eventually save lives.”

 

“This is my mission and my team.”

 

“The credit shall be solely yours.”

 

That worked and the officer barked orders in the local language to several people. A backup team arrived and they followed Mycroft’s approach. The first team created a smokescreen by firing on the gangsters constantly while the backup team managed to infiltrate the flat.

 

Despite his bravado, Mycroft only went into the flat once the gangsters had been shot or incapacitated and the tear gas effects had subsided. Still, it was difficult to breathe in there and Mycroft was relieved when one officer handed him a gas mask. He stumbled through the flat, which was quite large and sparsely furnished, and almost fell atop a corpse before he saw the hostages, all three of them, being removed by a side door to a fire escape stairwell. Through sign language the commanding officer assured Mycroft all three were safe, making the normally uptight British businessman smile like a happy child.

 

***

 

Jim’s sister’s name was Janice. She was a year younger than him and had the same eyes and smile he had. It twisted the knife in Mycroft’s heart. Even as she hugged Mycroft and thanked him for his help, he couldn’t respond properly to her.

 

Jim!

 

Now that he had heard the news from the other side which said their enemy was dead, their father was now stable and out of danger, the people were safe, Jim was fine and so was Sherlock, Mycroft’s earlier fears had come back to haunt him. Usually smaller fears were drowned out by bigger fears and in this case the worry and anxiety over Jim and Reginald’s lives had taken precedence over the fear Mycroft had of losing Jim. It was very much possible that he would choose Sherlock, or maybe none of them, choosing simply to move on with his work.

 

Sebastian was a big, hunky man with a ripped body, aquiline features, blond hair and blue eyes. He was blindingly handsome and had he not proclaimed himself as straight and interested in Jim’s sister, Mycroft would have become instantaneously jealous of him. “Is Jimmy okay,” Sebastian asked repeatedly, “He has suffered much more than us. We were more or less treated okay. We had food, music, books, movies, medicines, everything we needed as long as we didn’t want to go outdoors. But the biggest consolation we had was that we had each other. Jim was out there alone, fighting the battle for all of us. You sure he is doing all right?”

“Absolutely.”

 

“Can we see him Mr. Holmes?”

 

That voice! Mycroft got a start and, as he looked at Jim’s brother who had just been allowed to get out of the medical van after a prolonged period of receiving oxygen and glucose, he couldn’t believe his eyes. His head reeled and he gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who did Mycroft meet?


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim makes a choice

Jim’s huge Bambi eyes opened and he blinked hard a few times before looking around him. The first thing his eyes registered was a hospital room and then next thing his body registered was the lack of any serious pain or wooziness from drugs. In fact, he felt quite well and fit as a fiddle. Then why on earth had he been hospitalized?

 

He turned his head and saw Sherlock sleeping on a chair next to him, his hand firmly grasping one of Jim’s. A warm, fond feeling spread inside Jim’s heart and he nudged the hand suddenly, startling the other man awake. Their eyes met and they smiled goofy grins at each other before Sherlock bent forward slightly and pecked Jim oh so lightly on his full lips. “So, it seems that I lived,” Jim whispered, “Can I have some water.”

 

“Of course, here,” Sherlock let him drink out of a cup with a straw. After a few sips Sherlock set it back on the bedside table and took Jim’s hand back in his own. “I suppose you would like to know how daddy is and how it ultimately panned out with Mycroft’s rescue mission,” he said in a gentle, low voice, “Well, good news with both. Daddy is out of danger. The bullet was removed and he has responded well to the treatment. They even gave him a blood transfusion and he is stable and recovering. Your siblings and friend are safe, as is Mycroft. After some legal formalities and a thorough medical checkup, they will be here to meet you.”

 

“Sherlock,” Jim’s voice was small. Not feeble or weak but small, like he was deeply ashamed of something and it took a lot of effort on his part to say something.

 

“Yes Jim-Jim,” Sherlock sighed, knowing fully well that whatever was decided for the future was eventually going to leave someone hurting and alone.

 

“I don’t know how to say this but…..”

 

“It’s okay. You did this to save people you love.”

 

“He got to me because of my own mistake Sherlock. Had I not made such a crass mistake he couldn’t have blackmailed me and nabbed my friend and siblings.”

 

“What sort of mistake?”

 

“A few years ago, before dad had suddenly passed, I was cash strapped. I was supporting my brother and sister as they were not earning much back then. My brother wanted to be an actor and you know there isn’t much money in that profession initially. My sister was studying to become a botanist and working a side job somewhere, not enough to pay for her course. Sebastian, my best buddy, had just been court-martialed and he didn’t have a steady source of income either. It was up to me.”

 

Sherlock remained quiet. He didn’t say anything. The story was unfolding in a manner he hadn’t anticipated, even with his superior intelligence. _A man is a product of his past_ , someone had told him, and he was discovering just that about Jim.

 

“I should have just relied on hard work and maybe patched up with my father, encouraged my siblings to do the same,” Jim went on, swallowing hard, “Instead I made a huge mistake and took part in a stupid money-laundering scheme tossed under my nose by Magnussen. I made enough to start Sebastian off with a lounger and restro-bar he always wanted to open, pay for my sister’s education and upcoming wedding and my brother’s course in the London school of drama and arts. I also gave him enough cushion to live comfortably while his career stabilized.”

 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize Magnussen wanted to get to know me, identify my weaknesses and target the Holmes family later. Two years had passed and I was much better employed as an architect and designer, Sebastian was doing well and my sister was about to marry him. My brother had started getting small parts on stage and some voice work. Things were looking up. Suddenly father passed away and this fellow came back, blackmailing me about revealing my part in that illegal activity two years ago. I resisted and even managed to erase my name off all records and destroy evidence but by then he had access to my family and tricked them to an island location under my name.”

 

“Let me guess,” Sherlock said, “Then you were asked to drive us brothers apart, sabotage the bridge, destroy dad’s reputation and perhaps get one or more of us killed.”

 

Jim nodded.

 

“Yet, I can see you couldn’t do that.”

 

“I couldn’t. I am not such a person.”

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Jim nodded again.

 

“You really fell in love with both of us, right?”

 

One more nod.

 

“Now that the worst is over, do you think you’d like to choose? Oh by the way, my mother was targeted by an assassin too but Mycroft informed his friend in London and thanks to his intervention, she is also safe. It’s over Jim. Things are back on track again. All of us, dad included, understand that you mitigated all damages well in advance. No loss of funds since insurance covers it, no loss of face since Magnussen is the proven saboteur, no loss of contacts because Mike and I spoke to the Prince and took him on our side.”

 

Jim was uncannily quiet and was avoiding eye contact. _Uh-Oh_ , Sherlock thought, _what else does he have to hide, or reveal? He does this only when he’s afraid or ashamed of something. Is this truly over or is there more?_

 

“Jim……”

 

“Yeah, just gimme a moment Sherl,” Jim sat up slowly and wrapped his arms around himself, his gorgeous face crumpled in a manner that suggested extreme and shattering discomfort. Sherlock braced himself for something disturbing, some sort of life-threatening situation, some other intrigue that could rock the foundation of their business and net worth. But when Jim spoke, he dropped a bomb that Sherlock had never expected him to. “You asked me to choose,” Jim said, looking down at hands that showed a mild tremor running through them, “I have been dishonest for long enough, therefore I feel it’s high time I give you a totally truthful and honest answer here. I do love both of you, you have both been the primary reasons why I not only had a change of heart but also got the courage to stand up to Magnussen. I told uncle Reg everything and, even if you two hadn’t showed up here, we had plans to eliminate that bastard and rescue my siblings. Maybe with less surety than your presence provided, but we had arranged for that.”

 

“You are digressing. Jim, please.”

 

“Sorry. I was…..”

 

Sherlock leaned in, his nerves high strung.

 

“I realized one can love more than one person but there is only one soulmate in a lifetime.”

 

“And that is?”

 

“Mycroft.”

 

Sherlock fell back in his chair as if hit by a club. “You said…..Mycroft?”

 

Jim nodded. “I am sorry Sherl…..”

 

“No, I am sorry. I should have known this already. Big brother has always had an edge over me in a variety of things. Why should this be an exception?”

 

“I do love you too….”

 

“Oh maybe you do. But not enough to choose me as your partner. Sorry, I gotta go. Soon the cops will arrive to take your statement and I am sure Mike will be with them. I wish you both the very best. Okay…..I am…..I will just go now.”

 

“Sherlock. Sherlock!”

 

Ignoring those calls, those pleas to please come back and talk this out and resisting the strong urge to look back at Jim (he knew if he did that he would go weak in the knees once again), Sherlock ran out of the hospital room as if wolves were on his tail. His shoulder brushed against someone’s and he didn’t even have the courtesy to apologize, so broken and shaken was he that he couldn’t see, hear or feel anything else but the pain that rose sharply in his chest.

 

***

 

Mycroft had reached the hospital, anxious to see Jim. Although Sherlock had told him that Jim’s condition was largely fueled by stress and a mild concussion when he had been knocked to the ground by Sherlock himself, Mycroft couldn’t rest in peace until and unless he had seen the man with his own eyes. But, as he entered the hospital, he was also filled with a sense of dread. Impending loss stared him in the face because he was largely convinced that given a choice (which he knew they would offer Jim), he would choose Sherlock as his partner. Sherlock was handsomer, younger, cooler in every way so it was only natural that Jim would choose him.

 

Until he overheard part of their conversation and to his utter shock, Jim said ‘Mycroft’.

 

A moment later he heard Jim call out to Sherlock and his younger brother ran out of the room, visibly distressed and in a state of shock and perhaps denial. Mycroft felt for him because those were the same emotions he was feeling inside till about a moment ago. His heart went out to his sibling but at this moment he knew better than to pursue Sherlock. In moments like this, people preferred to be alone to sort out things in their head. Still, he was worried and requested one of the cops who was with him, to follow Sherlock and ensure he was fine.

 

“Why? What happened to him?” The man asked.

 

Mycroft backed off. He didn’t want to spill the personal beans to strangers and at the same time he didn’t want Sherlock to be left unmonitored. So he had only one way out. He called a number he had just been provided.

 

“Hey, it’s me. You guys are on your way? Oh you have almost reached yeah? Good! Listen, can you do me a favor please. My brother, I showed you his photograph, yeah the same fellow. He just ran out of the room. I think, James might have said something he didn’t like. Yeah, same thing. Please can you keep an eye on him. I need ten minutes with James, that’s all. Can I count on you with that? Oh great, thanks!”

 

Disconnecting, he stepped into the room.

 

Jim looked at him, eyes tearful.

 

“Mikey….”

 

“James…..my love!”

 

“I am sorry, I hurt Sherlock, I told him…..”

 

“I know, I heard most of it, I know what you said and I am….I don’t know what to say,” Mycroft said and moved closer to the bed. Jim almost lunged at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer with surprising strength. In a flash they were in each other’s arms and Mycroft was kissing Jim all over his face, Jim clinging to him as if he would never let go. All the angst, longing, unhappiness, stress melted away in that embrace and for the first time in his life Mycroft felt like a complete person. He kissed the top of the brunette’s head and murmured, “Shhh, it’s okay, don’t you cry now, not when it’s finally over.”

 

“It’s not over Mikey,” Jim sobbed, looking up at Mycroft and pointing towards the door, “What about Sherlock? If he does something stupid, and I know he can do that, he is very sensitive even if he pretends to be otherwise.”

 

“I’ll go after him,” Mycroft said, “I feel guilty now. I should have gone after him.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed, wiping his tears and clearing his throat loudly.

 

“No,” Mycroft stopped him, “You have an IV tube attached to your arm.”

 

Jim expertly but impatiently took it off, massaged his arm, opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a thick band-aid. He put it over the spot where a drop of blood had appeared after the tube had been pulled out. “Now I don’t,” he said with a wink, “Let’s go.”

 

“Allrighty,” Mycroft couldn’t stop a smile from breaking through, “Let’s go, you devious little Irish muffin.”

 

***

 

Sherlock stood over the railway bridge, staring down at the tracks. In the distance he saw the train approaching.

 

He felt like a loser. The one time he had trusted someone, found someone he could share anything with, somebody he had started planning to spend his whole life with, he had been abandoned in favor of his brother.

 

Funnily enough, he couldn’t really blame anyone. Jim had his reasons and he loved the man too much to go ‘moral policing’ on him and his actions. Maybe in the same circumstances he could have done worse than Jim had. Nor could he really get upset with his brother. Mycroft deserved happiness too and if Jim had chosen him, Sherlock knew he should gracefully step aside. After all, that was what he would have expected Mycroft to do had Jim’s decision been any different.

 

But logic and rationale weren’t working right now. He felt deflated, depressed, dejected. For the first time in his life he didn’t want to look forward to a tomorrow. The very idea of waking up alone and facing the burden of life, the heavy baggage of rejection, scared him shitless.

 

The train was coming closer and closer, shooting down the serpentine tracks which finally straightened out about two miles from the bridge. Sherlock mentally calculated the time and distance. Thirty seconds till the train passed under the bridge. The sounds of its engine echoed around the place, metallic sounds against the screech of friction. He heard traffic in the distance, faint voices and the sounds of a dog barking, the wind whistling around him. But slowly those sounds drowned out and all he could hear was an inner voice and the sound of the train’s wheels on the steel tracks. ‘Jump, don’t wait and don’t think, just jump, it will be over in a moment, if not sooner, end this and end it now, it would be a beautiful and quick way to go’.

 

“Wait, don’t.”

 

Sherlock blinked. He was standing on the balustrade of the bridge, half of his feet over the edge. When did he climb up?

 

“Sherlock! Sherlock Holmes. Don’t be stupid.”

 

That voice!

 

Sherlock looked through the corner of his eyes. No, it couldn’t be! “Stop man, don’t, don’t be stupid now, look at me, I was joking, I was joking man, hey Sherly honey, it’s you I want.”

 

It was a surreal moment for Sherlock. Jim was running towards him in a hospital gown, waving his arms about and yelling. Oh God, he wants me, he was joking, I didn’t even give him enough time to explain and ran out like a disappointed rabbit. Sherlock was hyperventilating, was this a dream or a hallucination, was this for real or some alternate universe, was he still in his mind palace? The confusion was soon sorted out. As the wind had picked up and he almost toppled over the edge, a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle, pulling him backwards.

 

“Ouch,” he groaned as he landed on his arse, “Why would you do that?”

 

Shamelessly he went on a crouching position and rubbed his butt, not caring how ridiculous he looked right now. That hurt.

 

“It was a choice between saving your arse or not hurting your arse,” Jim said, hairs flying wild in the breeze, “I chose the former. Thank me.”

 

Sherlock looked at him closely. No, something was wrong. Nope, _something was not right_.

 

“You are not Jim,” he said, pulling away from the man who was hauling him up. He spotted the pants and shoes underneath the gown and knew this couldn’t be Jim. If he had changed into civvies he wouldn’t have been wearing the gown on top. This was a way to deceive him.

 

“I am not Jim,” the Jim doppelganger said apologetically, “I am his twin. My name is Rich Brooke. Actually, it’s Richard Ian Brooke Moriarty.”

 

Sherlock blinked. This man was so identical to Jim and yet, in their close proximity, he could also point out the subtle differences between the two brothers. Jim’s forehead was wider, only a tad bit wider. Richard’s eyes were a lighter brown, just a shade lighter than Jim’s. Richard also had a slightly longer nose with a marginally wider bridge. His stubble line was also different from Jim’s. He looked at Richard’s hands and saw shorter, stubbier fingers than the ones he had seen on his recently ex-lover. From a few feet distance nobody could really tell them apart but if someone knew one of them better, they’d easily see they were not the same person.

 

Sherlock sighed. Of course, they were not the same person. A person’s identical twin was still a different entity, a different human being. Once again, in less than half an hour, he felt cheated. His look was bitter and accusatory and Richard quickly grabbed his hands in a contrite gesture.

 

“I know about the two of you,” Richard said, “Mycroft filled us in after he helped rescue us. Later, when he asked me to keep an eye on you I wasn’t about to let him down. Or let my brother down. He’s suffered a lot in trying to keep us safe, alive. This is a very small thing I can do for him…..so Sherlock, please, don’t do anything you shouldn’t do. Losing a family member is painful and you don’t want to inflict that pain to your family.”

 

Sherlock swallowed and stood up, “Easier said than done.”

 

“Sometimes it’s easier done than said. That’s what Jim did….didn’t he. But I assure you, he didn’t do this to….hurt you. He just fell in love with Mycroft. I think he loves you too but…..”

 

“But not enough to choose me at the end?”

 

“Sherlock….” Richard tried to say something but Sherlock stopped him. “You don’t need to advocate Jim’s cause,” he said wistfully, “I loved him and still do, will do so always.”

 

“To love him always, you need to be alive buddy.”

 

His infectious grin and encouraging voice made Sherlock feel a bit saner, a little more in control. This was a man who had spent months in captivity, worried about his life and seeing his sister and brother in grave danger. Yet he retained his sense of humor, which was inspiring. “Where did you find that hospital gown?” He asked.

 

“Took it off a patient about to get discharged,” Richard snickered, “He didn’t need it anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't leave Sherlock bleeding at the end but hooking him up with Richard would be a bit lame and predictable. Not yet decided how the last chapter shall go but I am planning a happy ending. In some way. Thanks for being patient with me.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding and a surprise

Three months had passed since the Dubai incident. It had taken Jim and the Holmes men a whole month to clear up the mess and start repairs on the otherwise impeccable bridge. Enough evidence had been gathered from Magnussen’s hideouts, his laptop and other lockers and vaults to prove him as the mastermind behind this conspiracy and sabotage. The whereabouts of all this evidence were provided by Jim. On grounds of being blackmailed into committing certain actions and for his cooperation later, James Isaac Brooke Moriarty was allowed to walk free. Nobody suffered monetary losses aside from the insurance company and the prince was so thrilled to be part of a real-life adventure that he didn’t press any charges.

 

Eugenia Holmes had got a shock of her life when she saw the assassin whisked off by Scotland Yard, moments before he was about to put a bullet through her cheek. Later she was filled-in by her husband and after hearing the whole story, she not only forgave Jim but also welcomed him into their family as Mycroft’s partner. Though still shaken, she saw Jim’s inherent helplessness in the whole affair and welcomed him with open arms.

 

Sebastian and Janice went back to Dublin to resume their business and studies while Richard Ian Brooke Moriarty, who went by the stage name of Rich Brooke, came back to London along with the rest of the Holmes clan and his twin Jim. Even on that flight, Jim had noticed the looks Richie had been giving Sherlock and for some reason his heart felt light as a feather. The overpowering guilt he felt for choosing Mycroft over Sherlock and letting the latter fall back into his lonely life again was lessened when he saw an opportunity for Sherlock to find love again. Maybe Richard and he could become brothers-in-law through marriage.

 

It was a rainy late evening in spring, the remainder of the snow from the previous week reduced to slippery slush at corners and beneath lamp posts, when Sherlock reached home tired after a hard day’s work. He parked his car at the usual spot and walked through the foyer to reach the elevators, his boots making squeaky sounds due to the wet soles. “Mr. Holmes,” the concierge called out, “Someone had come to visit you.”

 

“Someone who?”

 

“A gentleman of medium height, dark eyes, wearing a Westwood suit. Looked like an actor to me, I think I may have seen him at the Almeida.”

 

“Oh….any messages?”

 

“Nope, he said he will call you.”

 

The moment he had reached his flat, unlocked the door and dropped his keys into the crystal bowl, his phone rang. “Sherlock,” he answered.

 

“It’s me.”

 

“Hi Jim. How is it going?”

 

“Pretty good. Hey, listen, can I come over?”

 

For a moment Sherlock was quite taken aback. Over the past three months he had diligently avoided spending time with Jim and not even once had he met the man alone. Even with Mycroft his interactions had been strictly business-related. Not that he was angry with either one of them, but he wasn’t sure he could see them together and remain unaffected by it. Maybe jealousy would creep in, or he’d end up feeling spiteful and resentful. The last thing he wanted to be was a scorned and bitter man. So he only saw them when he had to, spoke to them only when it was absolutely necessary.

 

“Now?” He asked, “I am about to head to bed.”

 

“No, you just got in. I am outside in the car. Have been waiting for you for over an hour. Yeah I wanna meet now, you doing something terribly important?”

 

“Um….no, not really. But is Mycroft going to be with you?”

 

“No, you know he left for Munich this morning. He won’t be back till Friday. It will be just me.”

 

“All right, come on upstairs then.”

 

When Jim walked in seven and half minutes later, Sherlock had already changed into a pair of track pants and a full sleeved T shirt, with thick feet warmers in grey Berber fleece on his feet. He had also combed the knots out of his hairs and was chewing on a strong mint. _Why am I even doing this? He is my ex now, not my current. It doesn’t matter if my breath stinks of mayo or my hairs are windblown._

 

“You look good, a bit too thin though,” Jim observed.

 

“You look marvelous,” Sherlock admitted, “My brother is taking good care of you. Drink?”

 

“Yes please.”

 

Sherlock went to the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Jim and downing the contents of his own glass quickly. Jim took a sip and switched on the electric fireplace, kneeling next to it to get warmer. “Brrrrr, what blustering winds outside today,” he said.

 

“You didn’t come here to comment on my appearance or assess the weather,” Sherlock said bluntly, “What really brings you here Jim?”

 

“Can we not even be friends now?” Jim asked in a pleading tone, “I know I don’t work with you anymore and we are not dating anymore. But does that mean we won’t even talk anymore? Sherl, it doesn’t have to wrap up this way. You are my partner’s younger brother and my…..ex. we have shared more than just bodies, we have shared thoughts and dreams and even overcome a big disaster together.”

 

“Somehow I doubt we can ever be friends Jim,” Sherlock said honestly, “We will eventually meet more, speak more, as you become family and we have to tolerate each other over Christmas dinners and New Year Eve programs, birthdays and other special occasions. But that will be when that happens, in the future, not now.”

 

Jim nodded and swallowed his drink in a gulp, wincing as he felt the slight burn of sharp alcohol against his soft palate throat. He set the glass on the bar counter, refusing a refill, before trudging back to the couch and settling down on it, shucking off his boots and tucking his feet underneath his knees. Clearly he was not going to leave in a hurry, as Sherlock deduced through his observations, and there was something he wanted to discuss but unable to bring up yet. “Is there something I can help you with?” Sherlock asked, “Also, pardon me for asking this very basic and stupid question, but does my brother know you are here right now?”

 

“He does.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I know it’s hard on you. When we made the choice, Mikey and I, you were left completely alone. I am aware of your liaisons. I know the two of you were awfully close.”

 

Sherlock cringed. Now that his brother had a lover, he felt awkward discussing or even acknowledging their earlier relationship. It also occurred to him that it would be hypocritical of him to accuse Jim of infidelity and sexual promiscuity, not when he had had sex with Mycroft the moment Jim had left London for Dubai. As consenting adults they had all exercised their choices and the results had sadly left him as the only loser. Hard luck.

 

“Not any more Jimmy. Mycroft and I are over. You have no reasons to worry about that.”

 

“But that’s not why I came here. Sorry if I made it sound that way. I was just saying that your losses were more than what others think. You lost both of us and got isolated. I do understand it’s not easy to stay close to Mike or me under the changed circumstances.”

 

“Yes, but I am getting used to it. It’s not as bad as before.”

 

“What about Richie?”

 

Sherlock laughed, “Jimmy I don’t have a type. I loved you as you, not just for your face or body or the way you look overall. So while it’s true that looking at Richard gives me goosebumps and makes me hard, the moment I step closer and know he’s someone else I also go soft. He is a fine, attractive man capable of making heads turn but I am not willing to date somebody simply on the premise of him being your twin. It’s disrespectful towards him.”

 

He paused and flashed a bland smile at his former lover, “We are in touch though. I know he has flown to New York with a Broadway break and I wish him the best. Perhaps what you should also know is that he has started to date a playwright. A famous one with more than one award and who also happens to have inherited wealth. Early days yet but they are getting along just fine.”

 

“I understand now,” Jim said in a low, small voice, “Why he refused to answer me when I asked him if he’s dating you or at least in touch with you. Well, it’s silly of me play matchmaker just because he is family. But he did indeed have a crush on you.” He picked up a cushion and hugged it to his chest while Sherlock settled into a chair next to him. After a period of prolonged silence he said, “Speaking of family, Your mother is very keen to see us married before summer. But it’s way too soon since we….since my cover was blown and we had the Dubai incident……so I have been holding off setting the date until Mycroft gives me the green signal. He won’t give it, thinking it will….break you apart.”

 

Sherlock gave him an amused glance, “What?”

 

“I have the same fears.”

 

“You’re not setting a date because of me? Well, you guys live together and are very much a couple in the eyes of the world. I can hardly avoid that or turn a blind eye to it. How does it even matter if you take the next step? Why should I take it with anything other than a pinch of salt when I know your relationship is headed straight towards a white wedding!”

 

“You mean you are okay with it? For real?”

 

“Yes, for real.”

 

“Sherly….”

 

“Jimmy…..”

 

“I will always love you. In my own way. I always knew you were a great man but you havr proved yourself to be a good man as well. Now please promise me, you won’t do anything to hurt yourself or your interests. You will answer our texts, speak to us once a week at least, meet us once in a month for dinner and spend every Easter and part of summer vacation with us. Promise me.”

 

Sherlock didn’t trust his voice because he was so choked. Nodding as hard as he could, he hugged Jim who hugged him back just as tight.

 

“God bless you Sherlock. Thanks for being you. I love you, I love you so much.”

 

Sherlock kept nodding and breathed through his mouth so he didn’t end up letting out a sob.

 

***

 

The wedding date was fixed two months later. Sherlock found himself numb from shock and sadness but he did a remarkable job hiding it. While he transformed himself into a total workaholic during the days and went back to his chemistry lab in the evenings and part of the nights, he dutifully visited his brother, intended brother in law and parents every weekend to spend time with them and help with the wedding preparations. Mycroft even tried to break off with Jim after seeing Sherlock so downbeat and depressed but Sherlock talked him out of it. “Jim doesn’t deserve this yo-yoing Mike. If you have promised him stick to it.”

 

“What about you little brother?” Mycroft had asked. To that Sherlock’s answer had been a straightforward, “I shall learn to live with it.”

 

When the wedding day arrived, Jim chose Sebastian to be his best man and Sherlock asked Richard to be Mycroft’s. While his elder brother had asked him first, Sherlock had drawn the line at attending the wedding. Standing there with the ring in his hand and watching them kiss was a bit too much to ask for and he had refused. Mycroft had understood and accepted the choice, requesting Richard to take that place and the Irishman had gladly agreed. Sherlock sat on the front pew, flanked by his parents, a well-practiced smile on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes but he doubted many would notice that.

 

Despite his large hearted gesture, he had felt uncharacteristically emotional as he watched the two men kiss and promise each other eternal togetherness and love.

 

 _That could have been you,_ a voice in his head had told him.

 

 _‘No, some things are not meant to be and some people are not meant to be yours’,_ he had answered, startling his mother.

 

“What did you say Lockie?”

 

“Nothing mummy. I was thinking of my speech.”

 

“Oh yes, of course.”

 

“I also have a wedding gift for them.”

 

“Oh you do? My son has grown up. What a nice gesture!”

 

“Actually several,” Sherlock said, “A golf cart and gold kit for Mycroft and for Jim a Rodin painting I know he’d love to keep in his….their bedroom.”

 

Eugenia kissed his cheek and suddenly whispered, “You will find your man soon Sherlock. You have a good heart, a generous side to you which doesn’t fail to participate and be happy for your elder brother. I know attending this wedding has been difficult for you but you’re still here. I am so proud of you and I am sure so will be the lucky man who’ll eventually walk down the aisle with you someday.

 

After the exchange of vows came the group and couple photography session. Then came the journey from the chapel to the venue where Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had organized for a seafood, cheeses, champagne and exotic dessert packed lunch for the five hundred odd guests. During the post-wedding luncheon Sherlock made his speech, keeping it brief and witty, and stayed as far from the couple as possible. Still, at one point he found himself face to face with Mycroft just as he was exiting the bathroom and Mycroft was entering it. An uneasy smile exchanged, they looked away for a few moments before the elder Holmes said, “Can we talk for a bit, please? I can’t take off for my honeymoon without having a small chat with my only brother.”

 

“Sure.”

 

They stepped away, finding an alcove which was probably the most private place at the venue.

 

“Just wanted to say,” Mycroft cleared his throat, “I laud you for telling me right then and there at Dubai that we should stop seeing each other as lovers. I know I initiated it many years ago and I regret nothing, but I admit I couldn’t have been the one to stop it. Thanks to you I did.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Sherlock replied, pretending to look disinterested, “Just keep him happy.”

 

“I will. He means the world to me. But so do you. We’re still brothers and that doesn’t change. I will always be there for you so if there’s anything you need, anything at all, come to me without any hesitations. Being married doesn’t change a thing for me when it comes to my family.”

 

“Yeah, only the Terzetto is now changed to a solo, eh?”

 

“Yes, you can say that.”

 

“Where are you off to, for your honeymoon I mean?”

 

“New Zealand. Stopover at Dubai for three days and Singapore for three. Then two weeks in New Zealand and back to London via Istanbul, three days stay there as well.”

 

“Nicely planned.”

 

“James planned it.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Thanks again Lockie, I love you brother,” Mycroft did something completely uncanny and unexpected, something he never did in public. He pulled Sherlock closer into a bear hug and finished it by kissing his forehead in an affectionate and tender gesture.

 

***

 

Despite telling his family that he was unaffected by the event and convincingly portraying the happy sibling to the outer world, Sherlock felt something sink inside when he saw Jim and Mycroft leave with their bags. The newlyweds were airport bound for their honeymoon and when Jim turned to look at Sherlock over his shoulder, the younger Holmes sibling felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Unseen by all, he quietly slipped out of the venue and headed for his car. He wanted to drive off to some place, far from the noise and crowds, far from the memories of a lost romance, far from that image of Jim looking at him and waving as he left for his honeymoon. He got into the sports car parked at one corner of the parking lot, left a text for his mother saying he had to attend to some work, and drove off.

 

The farther he got away from the venue, the more optimistic he felt. In a way it was good that Jim and Mycroft had married. This way he was free of Jim’s and Mycroft’s ghosts and free to pursue a different relationship.

 

And yet, the moment he spotted someone by the roadside, or a fellow motorist, with even a remote resemblance to Jim, his heart cried out in pain. He missed not just Jim but also Mycroft, too much, way too much. For years he had seen people going for a rebound shortly after ending a relationship and he didn’t want to fall victim to that, still he felt it would help a lot in the process of ‘moving on’ if he were to find someone he could share his life with. Jim was the past, Mycroft was now simply his brother and he was aware of how delicately dysfunctional an incestuous relationship was, so the only option for him was to find someone who could share his present and future with him.

 

Or live an empty life till he got a sign from above.

 

“Oh Jesus,” he slammed his foot on the brakes and narrowly avoided a huge branch of an old oak tree that came crashing down on his path. From the corner of his eye he also noticed another car swerve in a similar manner and come to screeching halt inches from his own.

 

“Damn it,” he groaned when his car was plunged into a ditch, its fender resting against the bottom of the shallow ditch and its rear tyres still up at the road level, making for a hilariously tilted position with Sherlock’s nose touching the windshield. “When I asked for a sign from above I didn’t mean a three hundred pound trunk sized log to nearly smash me and my car. Dear God, please send good indication, not frights and scares.”

 

Someone tapped on his window. Sherlock tried to unclasp his seatbelt but in his difficult position, he couldn’t reach the button.

 

“Wow,” Sherlock snorted without looking, “Don’t tell me God has actually arrived for a discussion.”

 

The next moment the driver’s side of the door was yanked open, someone unclasped his seatbelt and then helped him out of the car with effortless ease. Sherlock tried to stand on his own feet and went ‘owww’ as his right knee gave away and he felt a coppery taste in his mouth. He had a split lip and an injured knee. Great, just great! Leaning back into the strong arms, he had just mumbled a ‘thanks whoever you are’ when an affectionate hand brushed back the curly tendrils of hair back from his face.

 

That was when Sherlock looked.

 

A suave, smiling, attractive man who was shorter than Jim but looked solid and strong, almost soldier like in his tenacity and strength. His eyes were sparkling brown and had a kindly look in them that made him instantly comfortable in his company. His sandy brown hairs were well styled and his clothes were also carefully chosen. Definitely someone affluent, successful and well-groomed.

 

“You okay?”

 

“I….um…well, I guess.”

 

“I am staying at a hotel nearby and I can take you there. Stay there till you feel better. I saw this happen, it was almost touch and go. Fortunately I have not a scratch on my body or car but you didn’t have such a fortunate escape.”

 

The more he heard him, the more curious Sherlock got. This man was also intelligent. He was interesting. “Um….you don’t mind that right?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

“Yeow,” Sherlock went into full drama mode, “My lip, my knee, my baaaack….”

 

“Oh you poor dear,” the other man said, “Come on, let me take you to my car. We will call roadside assistance and get your car towed to a garage for repairs, all right?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Sherlock gasped as he was picked up bride style by his new friend who smoothly carried him to his own car, a Lexus SUV, and carefully helped him lie down on the backseat. He offered him some water and a few wet tissues to wipe the blood from the lip, before he quickly got in behind the wheel. As the car rolled, Sherlock showed the skies a thumbs-up sign. So this was the real sign, this man!

 

“Sherlock Holmes,” he said, “That’s my name.”

 

“Sherlock is a very unique name, I like it,” came the response.

 

“I don’t know too many people who take strangers home.”

 

“I know your name so you’re not a stranger to me anymore. As for taking you home….sorry for being forward but I must say there are fifty more men out there who would like to take someone like you home. It’s a compliment.”

 

A warm rosy blush gracing his high cheekbones, Sherlock asked, “What’s your name stranger.”

 

“John Watson. Dr. John Watson. Former army major, now a surgeon in London and an author of books on nutrition, fitness and health.”

 

_One year later Sherlock Holmes became Sherlock Holmes Watson. Mycroft and Jim were their best men._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the slightly unusual storyline. I tried to make every character happy and not leave them alone and wanting. To do it believably I took some liberties. Anyways, it was great sharing this story with all of you. See you soon with another series.

**Author's Note:**

> Terzetto aka the composition in three vocal parts or the cardinal number that is the sum of one and one and one
> 
> Here, three beautiful sinners and their strange romantic triangle!


End file.
